


Bitter Hearts

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: Sequel to Maybe Next Time [https://archiveofourown.org/works/16498487].Negan thought he was the biggest badass in the apocalypse, busting balls and bashing brains as he dragged the local communities into some semblance of order.  But when his men stumble across a new group of survivors with a set-up to rival even the Sanctuary, Negan realises that he’s met his match in their fearsome, cold-hearted leader.  And the worst part is, he’s pretty sure he’s the one who made her that way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, it’s finally here! The sequel to a one-shot I posted last year called Maybe Next Time. Now, you don’t have to read it for this to make sense, but it sure would help. You can find it here if you want to check it out: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16498487. That fic was supposed to be set in an alternate universe, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought it could actually just be pre-apocalypse Negan, making the mistakes that we all know he made, and then I wondered what would happen if Negan and the reader met again once the world had gone to hell. This is the result! The POV will switch between chapters, but we’re starting off with Negan. Here we go! Hope you enjoy!

_Negan’s POV…_

The surface of the shiny mahogany desk was littered with papers.  It had started in neat piles, each and every page in its place, waiting to be checked or actioned, but Negan had lost patience with the tedious task long ago, and now the sheets were scattered in no real order, a mess of numbers and names that he couldn’t care less about, if he was being honest.  Reports, rotas and inventories vied for his attention, the near-illegible scrawl blurring in front of his eyes until he had no choice but to turn his back on the necessary admin, instead focusing his attention on the horizon beyond his window.

It had been another beautiful Virginia day, the sky a hazy cornflower blue, barely a whisper of breeze to disturb the heat that hung heavy over the countryside: a  day that should be spent fishing, or lazing in the park, maybe kicking a ball around if he had the energy to move and didn’t mind the sheen of sweat that would cling to his skin as soon as he pushed himself just a little bit harder; not stuck in an office with a nagging ache in his head and cramp in his fingers from gripping his pen too tight, and the aggravating crackle of the radio on the belt of the guard that stood outside his door.  He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in the hope that it might ease his pain and it did, momentarily at least, offering a brief few seconds of relief, though it surged back with a vengeance when his hand fell back to his lap.

The sun that had been suspended above the Sanctuary, a perfect glowing orb, was sinking now, well on its way to setting as it slipped towards the treeline and he was nowhere near done.  Another hour or two and his quarters would fall into shadow and he’d have to try and work by candlelight, something he knew would only strain his eyes further and exacerbate his headache, and he wondered, not for the first time, whether it really was as good to be king as he made out.

What most people didn’t get was that it wasn’t about the power.  It wasn’t about having an army of people under his control, ready to answer every beck and call, or about the privileges reserved for himself and his nearest and dearest, those that had earned their rank or deigned to marry him for what he could offer them.  No, they were perks, sure, but they weren’t the point.  The point was that he could keep people alive.  And, with the dead rising up and walking around, chomping down on any poor unsuspecting bastard that got too close, the ability to ensure that those who had survived continued living and breathing was a skill worth having.  Sure, there were those who had had their doubts at first. Nobody likes that asshole who stands up and starts issuing orders like they’ve got the biggest dick in the room without providing any kind of evidence of that, but over time his track record had spoken for itself.  The Sanctuary was thriving and he was damn sure that was almost one hundred percent down to him.

It was also about the distraction it provided, plotting and planning and, hell, even churning through the mass amounts of paperwork building a new damn world seemed to create. Everybody had lost people, Negan knew that.  Literally every single person still alive had seen somebody else, somebody they loved, torn limb from limb by the undead biters.  But the faces of those he’d lost haunted him.  His wife’s death hadn’t been violent.  It had been slow and painful, and he’d sat at her bedside and watched as she withered away.  Her curves had disappeared, bones jutting against her paper-thin skin as though they might tear through at any moment, and her eyes had lost that shine… That shine that had captured his attention the first day they’d met.

It’s funny, he thought sometimes, late in the night when his mind didn’t have enough to keep it occupied and morning was still long hours away, how you could start out in a marriage so deeply in love with the other person and come out of it hating yourself more than you ever thought possible.  Because, goddamn, he hated himself for so, so many things.  He’d screwed around on her, first because he had a short attention span and an insatiable appetite for the fairer sex, and later because he’d just wanted something in his life that cancer hadn’t touched, that hadn’t been tainted by the sterile smell of hospital rooms and the nausea-inducing chemo.  And then he’d stopped, because it wasn’t just screwing around anymore.  His heart had overtaken his dick and he’d actually found himself falling for one of those nameless, faceless girls that he couldn’t let himself think about anymore, for his own sanity, and because it didn’t seem fair to her, to his Lucille. And he hated himself because, when she’d finally slipped away, breathed her last, he hadn’t been able to do what was needed to stop her from coming back, from becoming one of the corpses that was tearing the world apart.  He’d left some kid to do it because he didn’t have the stones, and he’d run, as fast and as far as he could.

He had a lot of making up to do and that was why he’d stepped up, risen to the occasion, taking charge of a failing community and building it up into a new world order that could bring together survivors from every corner of the state.  He’d created a currency, social tiers, a trade in goods and services, and, if he had to crack a few skulls, bust a few balls, to keep it going, to keep it growing, then the ends more than justified the means.

A knock sounded at the door, and he swung his chair slowly back around, schooling his features into a stern glare before calling to his visitor to enter.  He’d specifically told the Savior stationed outside his room that he was not to be interrupted under any circumstances and he was about ready to throw down for the sheer insubordination, but when a fresh-faced young woman with an easy smile bustled in with a tray of steaming food, the fight went out of him.  It had been a long damn time since breakfast, and his stomach growled in anticipation as she deposited it in front of him.

‘I know you said not to disturb you, sir, but I figured you’d need to eat.’  Her tone was business-like, not a hint of apology to indicate that she had any regrets about barging in. Negan decided instantly that he liked her.

‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’

‘Violet.’

He grinned.  ‘Well, Violet, I guess it’s your lucky day.  It’s not often my rules get broken without pretty severe fucking consequences, but I’m gonna let you off, just this once.’

‘Thank you, sir.’  She turned to leave, running a hand through her short, dark hair, and Negan felt something stir deep within him.  Another possible wife, perhaps?  Or maybe a Savior?  If she was willing to burst in here just to ensure he had a hot meal in his belly, then she was obviously sporting some pretty impressive lady nuts.

‘Call me Negan.’  He rose to his feet, sauntering across the room towards her, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled.  ‘Haven’t seen you around here before, doll.  You new?’

‘I’ve been here a little under a month.’

‘And how are you finding it?  Settling in okay?’

‘It’s kind of a lot,’ she admitted.  ‘We’ve been on the road since… Well, since our last community fell.  And now being here, surrounded by all these people…  I wasn’t sure places like this still existed.’

‘Well, you’re safe now.’  He reached out to rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder, noticing how her cheeks coloured slightly, though she held his steady gaze.  A wife, then.  ‘You ever need anything, sweetheart, you come straight to the top, alright?’

‘Oh, I don’t-‘

‘And I’m not sure it’s right for a woman of your talents to be slaving away down in the kitchen.  I’ll have a think, see if I can’t come up with a better role for you, something that’ll mean I can see that pretty face whenever the mood takes me, huh?  What do you say?’

Her flush deepened, but she nodded, and his smile grew wider.  Yeah, this chick knew how to play ball, get ahead of the game.  Leave her to ponder on it for a day or two and she’d agree to any damn thing he proposed, he was sure of it.  He was the first one to admit that he liked a challenge, but sometimes it was much easier to just take what he wanted without a fight.  Smart girl like that was sure to see the benefits of saying ‘I do’ and that was a beautiful thing.

His eyes remained locked on hers for a beat longer, and then he moved past her to the door, pulling it open with a flourish and stepping aside to let her through, shooting her a wink when she turned to say goodbye.

As she walked away, he became painfully aware of the guard beside him shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

‘What is it, Joey?’

‘I’m sorry, boss.  I know you said not to let anybody in, but she was pretty forceful about it and I didn’t want-‘

‘You didn’t want what, Joe?’  Negan rolled his eyes, wishing he had Lucille in his hand so he could make the idiot dance just a little bit more.  He wasn’t mad, but it had been a long and frustrating day, and taking it out on somebody, anybody, held more appeal than he’d willingly admit.  ‘To disobey a direct order?  To interrupt my important busy work when I explicitly told you not to do that?’

‘No, sir.  Yes, sir.  I mean…’  Joey was stuttering, unable to force a full sentence past his lips and Negan’s own quirked in amusement.

‘Like I said to the girl, I’m gonna let you off this one time because I’m hungry and I can’t be fucked to drag your fat ass all the way down to the furnace so I can iron that pathetic look off your face.’  He prodded a single long finger into the Savior’s chest, enjoying the way he flinched at the contact.  ‘But you let it happen again, and I’m gonna have to remind you who’s in charge around here, and I can promise you, you ain’t gonna like it.’

 

* * *

 

Quarter of an hour later Negan had made short work of his meal and was back to poring over the latest collection figures, rubbing at his temples as he tried to make sense of the numbers scrawled in each column.  The light was fading fast, casting his office into gloom, and he found that he was squinting at the paper, fingers drumming against the desk as he tried to rein in his frustration.  For the past five minutes, he’d found himself constantly disturbed by the hiss-crackle of Joey’s radio out in the corridor, and he was seconds away from letting rip and demanding that the line was kept clear when the Savior practically fell into the room, sending the door flying back on its hinges and crashing against the wall.

‘What in the holy hell do you think you’re doing?‘  Negan had seen red, exhausted and no longer in the mood for anyone’s bullshit, but his anger shifted to concern as he took in the look of fear on Joey’s face.  ‘What is it?’

‘I-it’s the guys on the road, t-they’ve- I-I don’t…’  He sucked in a deep breath, eyes wide, holding the unit aloft as though it might explain what was going on.  ‘They’ve got trouble.’

The walkie talkie sparked to life, spitting out a crackling, distorted voice, though the poor signal did nothing to cover the panicked tone.  'Oh man, they’re everywhere.  I can’t… Shit, I don’t think I can-’  A muffled thud cut short the cry for help, but a pained shout followed shortly after, and then… Nothing.

Negan’s eyes flicked from the Comms unit to the man that held it, shaking his head in disbelief.  ‘What the fuck?’  Joey  only shrugged, flinching as Negan crossed the room in two strides and ripped the walkie from his hand.  'Simon?  Come in, you asshole!  What the hell’s going on out there?’  Silence.  'Simon, you better answer me, goddammit!  Now! Simon!’

‘What should we do, boss?’  Joey was once again shifting anxiously from foot to foot, and Negan fought back the urge to slap him round the back of the head and order him to pull himself together.

Instead, he growled, 'Where are they?’

'They were hitting up that big industrial complex we found a few hours west of here.  My guess is they must be on their way back if everything went to plan.  Probably still 70, maybe 80 miles out.  But, I mean, I don’t know for sure.’

‘Round everyone up, whoever we’ve got here.  I want them out by the trucks in five.  Do it now.’

‘But, boss-‘

Negan knew what he was going to say.  That by taking off into the night with the remaining Saviors they’d leave the Sanctuary open and vulnerable to attack.  Except that he knew his reputation preceded him, and there wasn’t a son of a bitch alive that would dare cross into his territory, whether he was home or not.  If his guys out on the run had gotten caught up in a herd, they’d need numbers to break through, and he had an abundance of people, armed and ready to fight.  ‘You gonna argue with me, Joey?’

The Savior shook his head.

‘Good.  Now, move!  Let’s go bring our guys home!’


	2. Chapter 2

_Negan’s POV…_

Negan’s fingers flexed around Lucille’s handle as the lead truck in the small convoy wound its way along the country backroads, headlights bouncing off the trees around them and casting freakish shadows on the potholed ground.  The air was thick with tension as each man considered just what exactly they might be facing, but Negan’s concern was giving way to a pure heady rush of adrenaline.  It wasn’t so much that he enjoyed violence… Okay, maybe it was exactly that, but after a long day spent cooped up in his office dealing with mind-numbing admin, a chance to get out and put his muscles to use was exactly what he needed.  A little skull bashing was good for the soul and he was confident in the abilities of those he chose to surround himself with.  They’d move fast, deal with the threat, and get every Savior, and every offering from the communities they oversaw, back behind the Sanctuary fences before the clock struck midnight.  He didn’t believe in much, but he believed in the strength and efficiency of what he’d built, and he knew he could deal with whatever lay ahead.

‘We should be on ‘em by now,’ Joey observed from his spot behind the steering wheel and Negan nodded, scanning the roadside for any sign of movement.  

‘Ease off the gas, keep your eyes peeled for corpses.’

The throaty growl of the engine quietened as the vehicle slowed to a crawl, speed matched by the truck that followed close behind.  The suspension creaked as the wheels bounced over a dip in the dirt, and Negan held back a groan as his back twinged in protest. Yeah, he could do with a good workout to stretch his joints.  Didn’t do a man his age any good to be still for too long.

‘There.’  Mark was leaning through from the back, arms resting along the top of the bench seat where Negan and Joey sat, but now he raised a hand, pointing towards three large dark masses that stood on the outer curve of the next bend.  ‘Those look like ours to you, boss?’

In all honesty, it was hard to tell in the darkness, especially from this distance, but they sure were trucks of some kind, and there were three of his out there somewhere unaccounted for. ‘Sure looks like.  Pull her up, Joe.  I want everybody on their toes.  It’s too damn quiet out here for my liking.’

The vehicle rolled to a halt, the silence deafening when the engine shuddered to a stop. The walkie on his belt sprang to life, crackling and hissing before a voice from the truck behind came through.  ‘You got something up there?’

‘Trucks,’ Negan responded, his finger hovering over the button.  ‘Look like ours.’

‘Can you see anyone?’

‘Not yet.  No sign of movement.  No bodies either though.’  He sucked in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he fought to let the adrenaline surging through his system conquer the whisper of nerves that crept up his spine.  ‘Keep calm, boys.  Whatever the fuck this is, it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.  We’ve got this.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Silence fell as Negan debated his next move.  He could go back out on the air, request a couple of the guys from the truck behind to jump out and scout the treeline, but that wasn’t really his style.  He was the leader, the big boss, and as such he liked to be the first one on the ground.  It was how he’d earned their respect in the first place and he wasn’t about to let that slip now.  But something was holding him back.  It was too quiet, too still. He’d put set-ups like this in place himself: the unexpected ambush, designed to intimidate and assert his authority from the off.  And he was becoming more and more certain that it wasn’t the undead that had been responsible for his Saviors’ distress.

‘We got movement, boss.’  Joey’s voice broke through Negan’s thoughts, and he blinked to clear his vision, staring wildly round until he picked out a single figure strolling along the edge of the road.  At first, they were just a shadow, but then they entered the space still lit by the truck’s headlights and he just had time to make out the glint of a large machete before the blade was reflecting the beam back at them, the glare blinding.

‘Shit.’  He raised his hand to shield his eyes, squinting through the windshield in a bid to make out what in the hell was going on, and then the figure shifted slightly, must’ve, because he could see that it was a woman standing before him, one hand resting on the curve of her hip, her stare levelled at the trucks that towered over her.  Fearless.

For a moment he was struck dumb.  There was something about her, now that he could see her face more clearly: something about the slight smirk that played on her lips and the way she tilted her head to one side, eyes flashing.  There was something about the colour of her hair as it shone in the light and the arch of her eyebrow as she waited for a reaction.  And then it hit him.

Y/N.

No, it couldn’t be, could it?  How long had it been?  He’d lost Lucille… a little over a year ago.  And the girl who’d stolen his heart had walked away from him nearly six months before that.  Could she really be alive?  Could that really be her, standing in front of him, self-assured and – hell, he wasn’t afraid to admit – pretty damn terrifying?  

But despite all of the doubts whizzing through his mind, he knew that it was.  His heart had recognised her almost instantly, his body jolting at the memory of exactly what those lips, still quirked in amusement, could do.  It might have taken his brain a little while to catch up, but he still knew her on a basic, primal level that had every cell of his being straining towards her.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about her in all that time.  She’d creep into his dreams sometimes, and he’d see her spread out before him, acres of smooth skin hungry for his touch, or he’d see her standing in the kitchen, eyes full of betrayal as angry tears trailed down her cheeks.  But he’d shut it down immediately because she was his biggest regret in every possible way.  She was the girl who was meant to be a bit of fun; a one-night stand, or maybe a few more; a fling.  But she’d become so much more and he’d had to let her go because he couldn’t leave Lucille, not when she needed him so badly. Two hearts had been broken and he’d had to shut those memories away so he could continue to function because otherwise he’d have crawled into the bed of that empty, soulless apartment, the scent of her still lingering on the sheets, and refused to move until he wasted away.

She was still standing there, watching, waiting, and he could feel the eyes of his men burning into him, looking to him for direction.  But he had no problem leading now.  His were going to be the first boots on the ground once again, and he was already grinning in anticipation of how good it would feel to take her in his arms.

Thrusting open the door, he jumped to the ground, Lucille hanging loose from his fingers as he rounded the front of the truck, arms spread wide.  ‘Well, I’ll be damned, sweetheart.  That really you?  Shit, how long has it been?’

She didn’t reply, made no move to go to him, remaining exactly where she was, machete still held aloft.  Negan was undeterred.  After all, her reappearance had knocked him for six too, hadn’t it?  Best to just keep on talking, give her a moment to catch up.  It didn’t matter what had happened between them in the past.  She was a familiar face and he had so much he could offer her.  He’d keep her safe now, he promised himself.  He’d take her home.

‘Don’t you look like a damn badass, huh?  Swinging that big ol’ knife around like you got a pair.  It is a sight to behold, I’ll tell ya!’

This time she did react, her smirk growing until her face was split by a wide grin, though it was cold and menacing.  It was then that Negan realised he’d made a mistake.

From around him came the thud of heavy boots, a lot of them, crunching through the undergrowth, and then men were emerging from the forest, lining the road.  Lucille was a reassuring weight in his hand as his eyes roamed over them, an army, much like his own, but with armour cladding their bodies, and heavier artillery than he kept on hand for the day-to-day, all of it aimed at him and the trucks behind.

‘What the fuck, doll?’

Finally she took a step towards him, then another, and he could see now the icy look in her eyes, the hostility that was directed his way, piercing through him like a dagger.  Yeah, this was the girl he knew, but she’d grown into a woman that he barely recognised.

‘Long time, no see.’  She drew herself up to her full height, still shorter than he was, though no less scary for that fact as she pointed the tip of her knife at his throat.  ‘Now, get on your knees.’

 

* * *

 

_Y/N’s POV…_

You’d been waiting for this a long time.  A part of you had worried that it would hurt to see him again, face to face, his eyes locked on yours, rather than observing from a distance as he shouted orders to his group, but all you felt was that same self-righteous anger that had fuelled you and kept you alive when the world fell apart.  It was crashing over you, wave after wave, and you could tell the moment that he’d seen it, his smile dropping, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared up at you from where he knelt in the dust.

It had ached at first, like a punch to the gut.  Your men had returned home with reports of a community some miles away, large and well-protected, and you’d been eager to get out there and see exactly what riches you may be able to reap from them.  There were good reconnaissance points in the buildings that bordered the compound, and you’d been crouched in the window of one, peering through the scope of your rifle when he’d sauntered into view.  He hadn’t changed.  Same slim hips, long, lean body, leading up to broad shoulders that you could still feel beneath your hands as though it was yesterday.  If anything, that smile that used to make your knees weak had grown more arrogant, that swagger more pronounced, but, damn, if it hadn’t had a low, simmering heat pooling in your stomach as you remembered what those blissful few weeks had been like before he’d taken your heart and shattered it so carelessly.  You could have walked away right then and there.  You could’ve found a reason, some excuse, to shut this particular venture down, and your people would have listened, just as they always did.  You’d clawed your way to the top and you’d earned their obedience as you’d done so, so you had the power to ensure that your paths never crossed again.

But…

You’d needed this.  Needed to see him looking up at you, confused, afraid.  Needed to feel the scrape of your machete against his throat and know that you had the power to end him then and there if you so chose.  Because he’d ended you.  That’s what it had felt like the day you’d turned and walked away, from him, from his dying wife, from that apartment where you’d given him every single part of yourself.  He’d destroyed you and he’d made you hard and unfeeling, because if you let yourself feel, if you let your guard down, even for a second, then you’d end up right back there at rock bottom, and you weren’t sure you had the strength to pull yourself up a second time.

‘Get ‘em out of the trucks,’ you instructed, tipping your head at the men nearest you.  They leapt into action and you smiled in satisfaction.  ‘Frisk them.  Take their weapons.  I doubt any of them will be stupid enough to fight, but why take the risk, right?  And bring the others out into the open.  I wanna see everyone they’ve got on their knees in front of me.’

‘And then what?’  The fact that Negan dared to question you with the amount of firepower you had trained on him was impressive, you had to admit, but you let your top lip curl into a snarl as you stood over him, enjoying the way he flinched when you tugged the wire-wrapped baseball bat from his hand.

‘Then the fun really begins.’


	3. Chapter 3

_Y/N’s POV_

Wary eyes tracked your every move as you strolled along the line, smirking at the ghostly faces staring back at you.  Your men had leapt into action at your instruction, pulling those you’d already captured from the shadows beneath the trees and forcing them to their knees on either side of their beloved leader, those that had arrived as back-up lined up and shoved to the ground behind them, and now… This was your favourite part.

You span on your heel, sauntering back towards the centre, positioning yourself in front of Negan with your feet shoulder-width apart and his weapon, the apocalyptic baseball bat, resting on your shoulder.  You could feel his confusion, his betrayal, coming off of him in waves, and it only increased your sense of satisfaction.  This time you had the power and it was him that had no damn clue what was going on.  Karma really was a bitch.

‘Wow.  I mean, wow.  There sure are a lot of you, huh?’  As you began to speak, you noticed several members of your audience flinch, and a smirk quirked your lips.  ‘Don’t get me wrong, we’ve been watching you guys for a while now, I know you’ve got one hell of a community back in that factory of yours, but seeing you all out here, lined up like this…  I guess I gotta give you some credit.  You’ve built quite the army.’

Negan forced a tight smile, nodding his acknowledgement, and you let your gaze flick to the man to your immediate left, raising your chin almost imperceptibly: the signal.

The night air was split by the deafening rattle of gunfire and the bodies at each end of the line began to drop.  Limbs sprawled over the dusty road, fresh pools of blood glistening in the moonlight, and you held up a hand to order the killing to cease.  Now, there was only Negan, with a dozen men still breathing either side of him, their numbers depleted by nearly half.

His face had reddened during the attack, a vein pulsating in the side of his neck as he grit his teeth.  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

You offered him a sweet smile.  ‘What I need to.’

‘People are a fucking resource,’ he snarled, hands balled into fists at his sides.  You could sense his need to fight, thought he might be stupid enough to make a move, lunge at you and put himself in the line of fire, but his survival instincts won out, and he remained where he was, knees shifting against the hard ground.

‘No, people are animals.’  You arched an eyebrow at him, letting the wire-wrapped bat swing down to scrape against the floor, enjoying the bob of his throat as he swallowed hard.  ‘You wanna know the one thing more dangerous than the corpses in this world?  People.  Can’t trust a single fucking one of them so the only way to survive is to take them down before they come for you.’

‘You’re insane.’

‘Shut your mouth!’  You’d kept your tone even up till now, controlled, but the venom in his voice baited you and you found yourself snapping.  You turned your back for a moment, sucking in a deep breath, inching closer to one of your men and leaning in to issue a hissed order.  ‘If he speaks again, shoot him.’

At his nod, you began to move again, pacing your way towards the dead and dropping into a low crouch before them.  Idly, you wondered when you’d become so hardened to the sight of corpses, blood spilled and the spatters of gore.  It should’ve turned your stomach, but instead all you saw was the clash of colours, red on white or brown or caramel tan against the darkness.  It all meant nothing.  Content that the bullets had hit their marks, that none of the fallen would be rising up again in search of sustenance, you eased yourself to your feet once more.

‘See, I’ve been doing this a while now, and I’ve learnt a thing or two.  And what I’ve learnt is that people can only really be trusted… No, not trusted, never trusted,’ you corrected yourself.  ‘They can only be useful when they’re terrified.  Because that fear turns them into obedient little lambs.’  Your boots thudded against the tarmac as you returned to the centre, wanting to ensure your message was heard.  ‘Trick is to make an impact.  Take out as many as needed so the ones that are left know that the second, the second _,_  they step out of line, I’m not gonna think twice about taking their asses down.  No punishments.  No second chances.  Second chances are just another chance to fuck up, and fuck ups take down empires.  You break my rules, you die.’  There it was: a flicker of understanding over Negan’s face, perhaps even respect.  It wasn’t what you’d been aiming for, but you knew he was following.  ‘I’ve seen what you’ve built, Negan.  So many people.  Such a huge amount of resources.  It’s impressive.  But you’re soft.  And I get it now -  _people are a resource…_ ’  His eyes widened as you mimicked his words back at him.  ‘They’re not afraid of you because you go around letting them think that they’re irreplaceable.  Nobody’s irreplaceable.  It might be working for you for now, but sooner or later the people you control are gonna start rebelling.  Might be tomorrow, might be months from now, but it’ll happen and, when it does, you won’t have the balls to shut it down!’

Oh, how quickly understanding had given way to resentment, and then something darker: loathing, maybe?  Seething hatred?  But you were right, you just knew it.  Hell, you’d seen it happen.  Much as you hated to think about it that way, you were actually doing him a favour by taking the responsibility off of his shoulders, but he would never see it like that.  It wasn’t in his nature.

His men were silent, still watching, gazes flicking between you and your own army, whose guns were still raised, ready, waiting.  ‘I’m sorry.  I just realised I haven’t even introduced myself.  Here’s me up here doing my thing, and you’re all looking at me like some random psycho.  Got some history with your boss, so I kinda forgot the rest of you don’t know me at all.’  That sparked a glimmer of interest, and Negan was the one being eyed with distrust now.  ‘I’m Y/N.  I run a group called the Survivalists.  Because that’s what we do. We survive, against all the odds, whatever it takes.  Those of you that are left will be coming to join me at our base.  We can always use more workers and you guys look like you’ll be able to take the strain.  The hours are long and it’s hard graft, but you’ll have a roof over your head and we’ll make sure you won’t go hungry.’

The quiet was broken then by calls of disapproval and discontented grumbles as your captives rallied against this sudden change in their living arrangements.  You couldn’t blame them – for all you knew they had families back home, wives and kids waiting on them to return – but it wasn’t something you could allow.

‘No.  No, that… that I can’t have.  See, I’m talking, and when I’m talking you sit on your asses and you listen.’  The rumbling voices gave way to ragged breathing as, around you, tempers frayed.  ‘Now, I know you probably don’t like what I’m saying but, shit, look at your buddies, right?  You guys drew the fucking long straws here.  You won the lottery!  All you gotta do is keep your holes shut and fall in line, and you might actually become valuable members of our new society.  Now, on your feet.’

You tilted your head towards the soldier at your left again, biting out your next instruction as your newest recruits dragged themselves upright, jostling each other as they staggered slightly on aching knees.  ‘Tie ‘em up, get 'em in the trucks.’

Your men set to work and you stood back and watched as chains were produced from the back of the nearest vehicle.  You’d done this often enough now that it had become methodical, and before long they were all bound and ready to be loaded, everyone except Negan who was still kneeling, eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders slumped.  He looked so dejected that, if you’d still had it in you, you might’ve almost felt sorry for him, but you weren’t wired that way anymore.

‘We’re gonna be taking your convoy,’ you told him, pulling his attention away from wherever he’d escaped to in his mind.  ‘You can keep one to get you back home.  Take your dead with you.’

His gaze was raking over your face, intense and searching, as if he was trying to see through your skin to what lay beneath.  It made you uncomfortable and you adjusted your grip on the bat, knowing from his reaction that it hurt him somehow to see it in your hand.  ‘What the fuck happened to you?’

‘You’re really in no position to be asking personal questions.’   _You,_ you screamed internally.   _You did this to me._ ‘I’m not your friend, Negan.  I’m not anything to you, remember.  Just a familiar face in a cold, dark world.’

‘Fine.’  He stopped studying you, instead craning his neck to watch his people disappearing into the shadowy recesses of the trucks.  ‘Then what happens now?’

‘Well, I’d say between the guys I’m loading up and shipping back with me and the ones with their brains all over the road, your place is pretty damn vulnerable right now, huh?  I’m gonna send some of my best back with you.  They’ll keep order, ensure you’re protected for the time being.’

‘Keep order…’  He scoffed.  ‘Keep me in line, you mean?’

‘I was hoping this little show we put on for you would be enough to do that, but sure, if it comes to it.’  The threat was evident in your tone, and his spine stiffened.  ‘You can tell your community that you work for us now.  I’ll come by in a few days and we can go over our new… partnership in finer detail.  They’ll need to be briefed on the rules, of course, and I want to see exactly what it is that you have to offer us.  I can only glean so much watching from a distance, y'know?’

‘It doesn’t have to be like this.’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘If this is because of us, because of what I did to you-‘

‘It’s not.’  It wasn’t a total lie.  If he’d been a stranger, you would still be doing the same thing, but your history made it personal, made you more determined to break him completely.  ‘It’s about survival of the damn fittest and I’m afraid you’re a little out of shape, asshole.  You and me, we were nothing, barely a blip in my memory.  You are nothing, and if you even think about trying to undermine what I’m doing here, I swear to God, I won’t think twice about taking my knife and stabbing it through your skull, do you understand?’

He ducked his head.  ‘Yes, ma'am.’

‘Good.’  That was your cue.  You turned to walk away, making for the lead truck so you could swing yourself up into the passenger seat and head for home.  You felt drained and exhausted, not just from the show but from the demons you’d had to face as you’d performed it.  But you were halted in your tracks when he spoke again.

‘Hey, Y/N?’

‘What?’

‘It was good to see you, sweetheart.’

 

* * *

_Negan’s POV_

The truck was silent.  The men sitting up front seemed to know the way, and he guessed that they’d been watching his setup for a while from what Y/N had said.  How the fuck had he not noticed?  How the fuck could he have let this happen?

In truth, Negan knew exactly how it had happened.  He’d let his guard down, been stupid and complacent.  He’d seen her standing there and all he’d wanted was to go to her, to lose himself in her, to recapture a little of what they’d had all that time ago.  Because he’d loved her back then, and it had been such a long time since he’d loved anyone, really, truly; such a long time since anyone had given a damn about him.  He’d thought it might be fucking destiny or something, gotten caught up in all that romantic bullshit when he should’ve smelt her bullshit a mile off.

Because that girl, she might sport Y/N’s face, have curves in all the same places, places he knew like the back of his hand, but she wasn’t the girl he’d loved.  She was colder, harder, pretty damn psychotic if he was being blunt, and for a brief moment he’d almost felt proud.  She was a fucking survivor.  She’d adjusted and adapted and there she was, leading a damn army.  It was hot as shit, no mistake, but… But it was an army intent on taking him down.

When his men had hit the floor, he’d almost choked at the mindless loss of life.  It was so far removed from his own methods that he hadn’t been able to believe anybody could be so wasteful.  Wasn’t it bad enough that the undead were so intent on depleting their numbers?  Why the hell would the living set out to do the same?  It made no sense and yet, the way she’d explained it, it made all the sense in the world.  She was doing what he did, protecting her own, reducing the threat, owning her shit, but she was doing it better and damn, she’d hit him where it hurt.

He knew this was the time to be planning now, figuring out how he was gonna get his sorry ass out of this mess.  Who knew how long he had before she decided to swing by?  And all that time spent under the watchful eye of her soldiers… It might sound hopeless, but Negan had a fine set of balls on him and usually he’d relish the challenge.  But he was still reeling.  Because it was her.  Why the hell did it have to be her?

As the trucks pulled up outside the Sanctuary gates, his mind drifted back to his parting shot as she’d walked away.  _It was good to see you._   He’d told himself it was designed to throw her off her game, appeal to her sense of nostalgia, maybe force a crack into one of those wall she’d thrown up, but it was a lie.  He’d said it because it was true.  Because his sense of relief at finding out that she was still alive almost,  _almost_ , outweighed his anger and his grief and his sense of being completely fucking powerless.

She’d get there too, he knew it.  He had to hold onto that.  Because right now, he was screwed, in freefall, and he was pretty sure the crash landing was going to sting like a bitch.


	4. Chapter 4

_Y/N’s POV_

Marco was standing at one end of the canteen when you sauntered up to him a few days after the ambush of Negan’s group out on the road.  It was a long room on the first floor of the high-rise office block that you called home, purpose built with a kitchen attached, and had fed hundreds of hungry workers, back when the world still made sense, meaning that it had come equipped with tables, chairs, plates, cutlery… Everything you needed to keep a community relatively civilised.  With his buzzcut and broad shoulders, your second in command cut an intimidating figure as he watched over proceedings, his rifle at the ready, constantly aware.  He’d been a soldier before, or so he’d told you, and that had worked for you, having a right-hand man that was already conditioned to follow orders without question.  He looked up as you approached, his steely stare softening as you propped yourself against the wall beside him.

‘Morning, boss.’

'Good morning.’  You took a minute to survey those sat at the tables, bolting back steaming plates of breakfast before the day’s tasks began.  'How’re things?’

'Good,’ he told you with a confident nod.  'All quiet.’

‘Great.’  It was always a relief when the community was calm.  A new intake sometimes had the potential to stir things up, but it was a necessary risk for the additional manpower they provided.  ‘Have you seen Samuel?  I want to have a chat with him about the outreach teams, find out if they have anything new on their radar.’

Your belief that a strong offence was the best defence meant that you had squads working around the clock to seek out new groups and bring them under your control.  Samuel, an ex-Geography teacher whose knowledge of Virginia and the surrounding states was unrivalled, headed up the operation, but both you and Marco kept a close eye on his plans.

‘Outreach?’  Marco’s brow creased in a deep frown.  ‘Me and Sam kinda thought we’d hold off on that for a while.  I mean, with the new intake from the factory, we’re getting pretty tight on space.  We’ve got a lot of work to do here before we can take anyone else in.’

You tilted your head to one side, fixing him with a disapproving glare, smirking a little when he dropped his gaze to the ground and shifted uncomfortably.  It wasn’t like him to question you and it wasn’t a habit you wanted to encourage.  ‘So, that means we should just stop looking?  Would’ve expected you and Samuel to know better, Marco.  We have to go after them before they come after us, right?  That’s how we stay alive.  There’s gotta be more survivors out there, and they will find us if we don’t find them first.’

‘But even if they do, who’s to say they’re gonna want to fight, huh?  What if they want to work together, collaborate, trade?  This aggression, it’s only going to get us so far.’

‘So far?’  You turned to face him, fingers drifting up to rest on the holster fixed to your belt, tightening around the cool metal of your gun.  ‘So far,   it’s kept hundreds of people safe, in case you hadn’t noticed.  So far, it’s meant that not one of them has had to go hungry, and that there hasn’t been a breach in our fences in over nine months.  This aggression, as you call it, is exactly what’s needed.’

‘Alright, alright.’  He backed down, raising his hands in a show of submission until your own dropped back to your side, tapping absently against your thigh as the room around you began to empty.  ‘I’ll tell  Sam to get the patrols running again, have them move West, fan out.  If there’s anyone out there, we’ll find them.’

‘Good.’  Deciding it might be best to change the subject rather than let the tension simmer, you nodded your head towards a group clearing their trays away in the corner, recognising them as a handful of Negan’s men.  'How’s it going with the newbies?’

‘All good, boss.  They’ve all been given their dorm assignments now and they’re on basic rations until we get them sorted with jobs.  Jacob’s already asked if we can spare a handful to help with the gardens, and the basement conversion could use some manpower too.’

‘Makes sense,’ you agreed.  At the rate you were going, converting the lower levels into usable spaces was vital.  Marco had been right about one thing.  The dormitories where your people slept were becoming crowded, but the basement of the building had been locked up for years and was in a poor state of repair.  You’d been scavenging for the supplies required for a while now, and finally had enough to get going on the project.  ‘I’ll leave it to you to allocate them.  Any sign of resistance?’

‘Nah.’  He shook his head.  ‘They’re still pretty shellshocked at the moment, wandering round like corpses.  I’ll keep an eye on things, let you know if I sense any trouble.’

‘Great.’  Content that he had a handle on things, you were about to leave him to get on when he spoke again.

‘So, er, what’s the deal with you and that Negan guy anyway?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Sorry, I just… You mentioned out there on the road that you had history and, I mean, I saw how you reacted the first time I took you to scope the place out.  Must be one hell of a story behind it.’  He cleared his throat, seeming to realise his error as your eyes darkened. ‘Ignore me.  None of my business.  Just thought if you needed to talk or anything, y’know…’

He tailed off and you took a step closer, lip curled in disgust as you snarled at him.  ‘Let’s get one thing clear, Marco, okay?  I might let you sit at my right hand and pretend that you actually matter around here, but that doesn’t make us friends.  Ask a stupid question like that again and I’ll put a bullet through your skull and have you replaced by the end of the day.  Do you understand?’

‘Y-yes, ma’am,’ he stuttered, and you rolled your eyes.  It had seemed a good idea at the time, choosing the thickset, fearsome looking soldier to be your deputy, but he was getting too close.  You knew he liked you, that his interest in your past with Negan was borne of more than just curiosity, but it wasn’t something that you wanted to talk about with anyone, and you couldn’t have him thinking that you were weak.  ‘I’m sorry.  Won’t happen again.’

‘It better not.’  Finally, you span on your heel, more than ready to make your escape before your emotions forced their way to the surface.  Seeing Negan again had messed with your mind more than you would have believed, even if it had felt good to see the mixture of awe and fear in his eyes.  But you couldn’t let it get in the way of the role you played for your people.  Too many lives depended on it.  ‘Just do your job, Marco, or I’ll find someone who will.’

 

* * *

 

_Negan’s POV_

Negan was in hell.  His Sanctuary, his kingdom, was no longer his, and he was watching it crumble, powerless to stop it.  He still walked the halls, and his people still dropped to their knees as he passed, but now he was escorted at all times by armed guards, and he had no means to fight back, no way to regain control.  Lucille, his Lucille, had been cruelly snatched from his hands and he had no damn clue if he’d ever see her again.  That cut deep.  The irony that it had been Y/N that took her from him cut even deeper.

Around him, the community grieved.  So many had been lost and so mindlessly, for no real purpose.  Though, of course, none of those left behind knew the details.  That truth sat with him alone, and with the Saviors that had been taken away, carted off to who knew where to join the ranks of the Survivalists.  Instead, he’d been forced to stand before those that remained and lie through his teeth, fearing as much for their lives as for his.  This new group, they didn’t shy away from violence, and any sort of rebellion would be shut down with a massacre, he’d bet.  He couldn’t let that happen.  Better to play by their rules, bide his time for now, until he saw an opening.  Then he’d kill all the sorry assholes who shoved their guns in his face and treated him like a damn puppet.  He was Negan.  He’d come out on top.

‘Last night our guys out on the road, they ran into some trouble,’ he’d explained from his position on the catwalk that spanned the length of the main hall, worried faces peering up at him as he spoke.  ‘A herd.  Biggest we’ve ever seen passing through these parts and, even though we sent back up, it wasn’t enough.  We were outnumbered and, shit, we were fighting a losing battle out there.  But, luckily for us, these men that you see around us, they came to our rescue.  They’re from a group called the Survivalists and they saved our asses.  We owe them which is why they’re here now.  Now, I want you to follow their rules, you hear me?  They’re calling the shots because… Hell, because we need them. They were kind enough to take some of our people in, show them around their operation, what they’ve been building.  Kind of an exchange program, of sorts.  I want to thank the families of those chosen for your understanding.  What they’re doing, it’s pretty damn important, but I know it killed them to leave without saying goodbye.  And for those that lost someone out there, I’m sorry.  I know it’s never easy to move past something like that, but we’re still standing and that’s what counts, right here, right now, and we have new allies to help us thrive.  It’s a whole new world, folks.  Let’s make sure we all play our parts.’

The words had stuck in his throat, hollow and toxic, and below him those worried faces had become suspicious, full of distrust.  It might only be the workers left behind, along with a few of the more junior ranks of his army, but they weren’t stupid.  Still, over the days that followed, their routines remained much the same, and the quiet murmurings of discontent quietened into nonexistence.  After all, it was the end of the world.  The dead walked. People died.  These were things they’d grown accustomed to and, as long as they had fences to keep the corpses out, clean water and food in their bellies, that was as good a life as any, no matter who was in charge.

Only Negan’s life had changed dramatically.  Yeah, he was still a figurehead, still technically in charge, but he spent most of his time confined to his office, in case he should make any attempt to reach out to anyone that might be able to help him.  The Survivalists, as far as he could tell, knew nothing about the outposts he had scattered about the Virginia countryside, but he couldn’t risk notifying them of the situation and drawing attention to their existence.  He had no doubt that Y/N would bring them all down in one fell swoop and they were his back-up plan if all else failed.  At some point, sooner or later, surely they’d realise that the central hub had gone quiet, and they’d rally the remaining forces to investigate.  At the very least, they would still be handling the pick-ups from the communities under their control.  He hadn’t seen any of the Sanctuary’s trucks leave since he’d arrived back with Y/N’s men in tow, so the collections that he oversaw had definitely fallen by the wayside.  With such a huge population to feed, he couldn’t help but worry about what that would mean for his supply stores, but, he supposed, that wasn’t really his problem anymore.

At night, he was handcuffed to his bed, allowing his guards to finally leave him to get their own rest, and he’d heard a quiet whisper from Sherry on the one occasion that he’d been allowed to venture in to his wives’ quarters under the guise of giving the newcomers a tour of the compound, that his girls were being locked in to their rooms while they slept, as if they might have some sort of vested interest in freeing their lord and master from his cageless prison.  Ha!  He’d had to stifle at laugh at that.  Most of his wives hated him more than anyone else in the place, but of course nobody would believe that.  He was completely alone.

And still, Y/N didn’t come.  She was letting him stew, he knew, waiting for him to lose his temper, give her men a reason to put a bullet through his brain.  But he wasn’t that reckless.  Or, maybe, seeing him again up close like that had affected her more than she’d admit, and she was scared to face him in case he managed to break through her defences. He was sure gonna give it a damn good try.  His life, and the life of his people, depended on it.  The girl he knew had to be in there somewhere.  If only she’d just stop by.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

_Y/N’s POV_

‘Is he up?’

Your men jumped to attention as you threw open the door to Negan’s quarters, enjoying the fear that flashed across their faces.  You’d made the decision to travel to the Sanctuary overnight, arriving at first light, preferring to catch the community unawares and observe as they woke up and went about their work.  To your satisfaction, your own men were carrying out their duties as you expected, patrolling the corridors and guarding the perimeter, and you were pleased to see that Negan hadn’t been underestimated.  Though you knew he’d be chained to his bed overnight, standard practice until your authority had been properly asserted, you wouldn’t put it past him to have some kind of trick up his sleeve, and the presence of two soldiers in the office that adjoined his bedroom brought a smile to your face.

‘Not yet,’ William, one of your youngest recruits, told you, nodding towards the door.  ‘We tend to leave him there for while, let his people get down to work before he shows his face.  Build a bit of resentment, y’know?’

‘Good thinking.’  You arched an eyebrow, impressed at his initiative.  ‘Think he’ll mind if I provide the wake-up call this morning?’

You didn’t wait for a response, crossing the room to the door on the other side and rapping on it with the handle of the baseball bat that you had clutched in your hand, letting it swing slowly open to reveal Negan’s long, lean body stretched out across his bed. His hands were cuffed to the bedstead, arms trapped above his head so that he had to crane his neck to see you, eyes narrowing when he realised who was standing in his doorway.

‘Shit, doll, here was me thinking you’d forgotten about me.’

The muscles in his arms tensed, revealing his frustration, despite the nonchalance of his tone.  His t-shirt had ridden up as he strained to sit up, revealing a thin line of dark hair snaking down beneath the covers where they’d settled around his waist, and you swallowed down the bitter tang of nostalgia that rose in your throat.  He looked good and you hated him for it.  But you were in control this time, and you focused on his vulnerability as you sauntered over to the bed, dropping down beside him, careful to keep at least a foot of space between you when the mattress dipped.

‘Ahh, Negan, c’mon, you know you’re unforgettable.  I mean, this place… This is gonna be my biggest acquisition so far.  The things these people could provide… There was no way that I was gonna let this slip through my fingers.’

His expression darkened.  ‘So glad you approve.’

‘Oh, I do.  The work you’ve done here is… Wow, I mean, it’s really… Impressive.’

‘Is there a reason you’re in here sweet-talking me or are you gonna let me out of these cuffs so I can go take a piss?’

‘It’s not sweet talk,’ you countered.  ‘I’m just giving recognition where it’s due.  You’ve done a great job making this place what it is today, but that’s the end of the road for you. You’ve topped out, Negan, reached your full potential.  This operation needs a fresh pair of eyes and I am more than happy to be that for you.’

‘I’ll bet you are.’

You grinned at him, forcing the smile despite the anger that his attitude stirred within you. He was pretending like he was still in charge here, like you were just some over-dramatic ex that he had to appease, and you needed to let him know that that wasn’t the case. You’d thought slaughtering his men might have had that effect, but it seemed Negan was harder than you’d given him credit for.  That was fine.  He’d come to understand.  And, if he didn’t, you’d take him out and turn him into a cautionary tale.  He’d be just as much use to you dead as alive.

Rolling back to your feet, you raised your voice, bringing your men running.  ‘Alright, get him up!  Let him shower if he needs to, but I want him out there, dressed and ready to talk in fifteen minutes .’

‘You’re not staying for the show?’  Negan cast a flirtatious look along the length of his body before his gaze flicked back to you and you smirked as his attempts to get under your skin.

‘If he makes any more comments like that, make him hurt.  I don’t care how.’

 

* * *

 

When Negan emerged from his bedroom ten minutes later, his slicked back hair was still damp from his shower, and he was clad in a pair of loose grey trousers and a white t-shirt, leather jacket slung over his shoulder.  His pace was unhurried as he made his way towards the large mahogany desk in front of the window, and, though the corner of his mouth twitched at the sight of you sitting behind it in the position that you guessed up till now had belonged solely to him, he took a seat on the other side without comment.

For a long while, you just looked at him.  It was a tactic you employed often, using silence to disarm your opponent, throw them off their game, but on this occasion it gave you a chance to study the man before you in more detail.  In the light of day, the lines around his eyes were more obvious, deepened, you were sure, by the end of the world as you knew it, but the irises were that same familiar shade: a rich, chocolate brown that took you back to long nights with his gaze locked on yours, boring into your soul and making you feel like a completely different person.  His lips were set in a thin line, one that you recognised from the day you’d issued your ultimatum – you or his wife – and you knew that inside his mind, a jumbled mess of thoughts were fighting for dominance.  His skin was tanned, and he might have been the cleanest person you’d seen since the dead started walking outside of your own compound, but that didn’t surprise you.  Even when things were falling apart around him, Negan had a way of seeming so calm, so together, that of course he’d manage to find enough cologne and hair product to maintain his image.  Honestly, you wouldn’t have imagined it any other way.

‘So then, doll,’ Negan began eventually, tiring of the quiet tension that hung in the air between you. ‘What exactly what is it you wanted to talk about?’  When you offered no response, he went on.  ‘Fancy a little play-by-play of the past, huh?  Rehash of our time together way back when?  Sure are some sweet little memories I wouldn’t mind reliving, y’know, if you find you get an itch you can’t scratch by yourself.’

You felt your cool begin to slip, and you distracted yourself by leafing through the papers spread over the desk in front of you, taking a moment to steady yourself before you fixed him with a cool stare.  ‘Now that you’ve had some time to come to terms with what went down on the road, I’m here to outline exactly how this is gonna work from here on out. For now, I just want you to listen.  You can do that right?  Listen?  That means the mouth stays shut until I say otherwise.’

‘Well, isn’t this one hell of a role reversal?’

His intentional disregard for your instruction struck a nerve, and you raised his bat into the air above you, slamming it down on the desk with unnecessary force, the barbs scarring the smooth wood and scattering papers onto the floor.  You weren’t sure if it was the gesture or the sight of his weapon in your hands that finally had the desired effect, but he leant back in his seat, lips sealed tight, knitting his fingers together as they came to rest on his stomach.

‘Alright then.’  You’d made this speech countless times before, and you had it off pat now, the words flowing with almost no effort or conscious thought.  ‘So, you’ve probably got the memo that I’m in charge now.  You work for me, which means that everybody that works for you works for me.  I have ultimate control and I will be making any and all decisions concerning the running of this place going forward.  Any supplies you have will be universal, meaning that, at any time, I can choose to redirect them to the Survivalist Hub. My intention isn’t to leave you short -  I need your people fit and healthy in order to be of use – but if that does happen, I will expect you to up your supply runs to compensate.  Do you understand?’

Negan scoffed.  ‘You really think people are just gonna take this little change of leadership lying down?  You’ve been on the scene for five fucking minutes and you’ve already taken sons and husbands and fathers and friends away from these people.  You’re gonna have an uprising on your hands.’

‘I don’t think so.’  You leant forward, resting your forearms on the desk, Negan’s focus once again falling to the baseball bat that now lay between you.  ‘See, I don’t just take, Negan.  I give.  I understand you work on a points system here, right?  People work, earn points, spend them on, what?  Food, clothing, that kinda thing?  It’s a good system.  I’m going to make it better.  I’m increasing rations and pay, improving conditions for the workers.’

‘You’re going to buy their loyalty?’

‘I’m creating a freaking economic boom!  Happy workers work harder for longer, and getting more points for that work increases morale even more.  It’s an efficient system, trust me.  It works.’

‘But?’

‘What?’

Negan tilted his head to one side, considering your methods with a knowing look on his face.  ‘C’mon, doll.  Last time we ran in to each other you accused me of being too soft to keep this place running, and now you’re dishing out benefits left, right and centre.  There’s a but coming and it’s a damn big, juicy one I’ll bet.  Care to share?’

He had you there, but you weren’t ashamed of it.  ‘You know it makes sense.  As long as things keep running smoothly, everybody lives comfortable, happy lives.  But there will be tolls to pay for lack of production.  If quantity or quality of work slips, people will be punished.  And I don’t give warnings or second chances.  And if anybody, and I mean anybody, breaks a single one of my rules, I’ll kill them myself.  The only thing people truly fear in this world is death.  It’s the only way to control them.’

‘Sounds like a surefire way to slaughter your entire workforce,’ he observed.

‘You’d think.  But no.  People follow the rules.  That’s why it works.’  You watched as he processed that, realisation of just how dire his situation was finally hitting home as his mask slipped just a little.  ‘I’m building an empire, Negan, and you just became a part of it. Now, tell me, is this place all you’ve got or are there more of you out there somewhere? You got outposts?  I know you had trucks rumbling out of here at all hours.’

‘I’m not telling you shit.’  There was a stubborn glint in his eye that you longed to destroy, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that his behaviour irked you, not yet.  Besides, you were in the man’s office, surrounded by papers and files, and you weren’t short on time.  Better to figure it out for yourself and know that you were getting the full story.

‘Fine.’  Pushing your chair back from the desk, you kicked your feet up onto it, crossing them at the ankles and smirking when mud smeared across the gleaming mahogany.  ‘Hey, Will!  Get your ass in here!’

The door to the corridor swung open and William stuck his head through, obediently awaiting his next order.

‘Take this one and get him out of my sight for a while, okay?’  You surveyed the office, wondering what confessions it might hold.  ‘I’ve got work to do.’

 

* * *

 

_Negan’s POV_

She was tougher than he’d thought.  He’d taken every opportunity to prod at her barriers, bring up the past, test to see if she had a weakness for him that she hadn’t yet revealed, and he’d been left disappointed.  She was so skilled at keeping her face a blank mask that it was almost like conversing with a robot, heartless and cold.  And he felt anything but…

It had hit him when she’d climbed onto his bed.  That had been the moment.  Up until then it had been flashes of memories that haunted him, small snippets here and there of the time they’d spent together, but with her body warming his mattress and the sweet scent of her filling his head, he’d been dragged back to the past so completely that, had he not been bound, he would’ve rolled over her right there and kissed the breath from her lungs, reminding himself, reminding her, of just how good it could be.  Man, if he’d done that he was pretty sure now that she’d have killed him without a second thought.  She seemed to have no regard at all for human life and, despite being impressed by her strength and her methods, that was something that he couldn’t understand.

And now he was stuck, back to the wall in the corridor, with two guns trained on him, icy stares freezing him in place, while she uncovered the details of every single man, woman and child under his control.  It was all in there, secreted away in his office.  It had been the only place he felt it to be secure, under his watch, not trusting anybody else with the full statistics of his operation.  He’d hoped that, if he could keep it hidden for long enough, the outposts would be their salvation, riding to the rescue armed to the back teeth and taking the damn invaders down, but they hadn’t come.  She had.  And she was taking everything from him.

When he was finally called back into his quarters, she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, Lucille at her side, piles of paper arranged neatly in front of her, and his heart sank.  He could see one stack of files for the communities that he had under his control, another for the outposts, a third for the warehouses he had dotted about that stored surplus supplies, the literal big guns.  Inventories, rotas, points statements…  It was all there, spelled out in black and white, and for once he cursed his own nature, the need to keep neat and meticulous records.

‘Take a seat.’

He did as instructed, folding his body to the ground and grimacing at the ache in his back, a result of being forced to sleep with his arms above his head, unable to twist or turn to get comfortable.

‘Is this everything?’

He nodded.

‘Well.  I mean, it’s a lot more than I expected.  Four outposts with, what?  Fifty plus living at each?  Warehouses chock full of goodies.  Can’t wait to raid those.  And the communities?  Maybe you’re not as soft as I thought.  Hilltop, Kingdom… That’s where all your supplies come from?’

‘Most of ‘em.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’  She picked up another sheet of paper, eyes scanning over it, before darting to the map that was spread out on her left.  ‘You’ve literally got footholds across the state.  This is a far bigger win than I realised.  I mean, you’ve done half my work for me!  I guess I should be thanking you.’

Negan’s stomach rolled.  He’d been holding it together up till now, but this… This was the biggest kick in the teeth and he hated it, the look of excitement on her face, the hunger in her eyes as she calculated just what his setup could provide.  Unable to sit still any longer, he pushed himself to his feet pacing back and forth.  He half expected her to order him back down, but she didn’t, instead reining in her glee and getting back to business.  ‘I’m gonna be sending teams out to every outpost to inform them of the change of command. For now, those teams will settle there, make sure they understand my rules and expectations, head out with them to their pick-ups, assert our authority.  Everywhere that you have a hold, we’ll have a hold.  And don’t get any funny ideas about somehow alerting your guys out there, getting them to fight back.  We will kill them.’

‘You know, you’re a real fucking bitch!’  Negan’s rage bubbled over, and he whirled towards her, fists clenched at his sides.  He was bigger than her, stronger, but despite that she was climbing to her feet, stepping up to him, a challenging look on her face.  ‘What the fuck gives you the right to come in here and start killing my guys, huh?  Who the fuck do you think you are?’

‘I’m your worst fucking nightmare,’ she spat back.  ‘Don’t you dare try to undermine me.  I will make sure you regret it!’

‘Should’ve put a bullet through your skull the second I saw you, saved my people from all of your bullshit!’

She scoffed.  ‘Maybe next time.’

That was the breaking point.  Negan swung for her, all affection that he might have felt driven away by the fury she’d awakened.  He was nobody’s whipping boy and, now that it was just him and her, he could put her in her place, put an end to this.  But his fist failed to connect as she ducked beneath it, and then she was driving her knee upwards, the blow hitting its mark and bending him double as pain spasmed through him, sending him to his knees as he gulped down needy breaths.  He could feel his face growing hot, anger and agony and shame at his debilitation flooding through him, choking, overwhelming.

‘I should gut you right here, right now,’ she snarled, standing over him, like something out of a damn comic book with one hand on her hip, the other brandishing Lucille.  ‘I should grind your brains into the damn ground.’

‘Then why don’t you?’

‘Because you’re coming back with me.’  She dropped into a low crouch so he could feel the full force of her hatred, shooting daggers at him from her eyes.  ‘And what I have planned for you will be so much worse than death.  I’m gonna make you pay, Negan.  For everything.’


	6. Chapter 6

_Y/N’s POV_

The bedsheets tangled around your legs as you tossed and turned, the window cracked open to allow a little air into the stifling heat of your bedroom.  One of the upper offices, you’d commandeered the room as your own when you’d first taken over the block, liking that it got the sun in the mornings and had a view over what was once a park on the edge of town, now an overgrown grassland, dotted with smatterings of wildflowers that swayed in the breeze.  Tonight though it felt claustrophobic despite its generous size, and the humidity made it feel unbearable as sleep continued to evade you.

It had been a long week.  The hours spent at the Sanctuary had been eye-opening and productive, but your brain had been exhausted by the piles of spreadsheets and stock lists, new names and faces to remember, and the following days spent assigning new tasks to your army, sending them out to Negan’s outposts with orders to take over and maintain control.  And your run-in with Negan back in his office had affected you more than you’d like to admit.  You’d replayed it in your mind all week, how you’d lost your temper, pushed to your limit by the blasé way that he’d referred to your past, the non-relationship that you’d almost had that had shredded your heart into teeny tiny pieces.  For him, it seemed, it was something to joke about, to use to taunt you, and you hated that it had mattered to him so little; that you didn’t matter to him and apparently never had.

You should have killed him.  The voice in your head had been repeating that simple truth over and over since you’d had him bound and loaded into the back of your truck, and you’d refused to listen to it, to pay it any mind, for the most part.  Each night though the inability to sleep and endless hours of darkness that stretched out ahead of you only amplified the words, making them impossible to ignore, and you rolled onto your back and drummed your fists against the mattress in frustration.  You should have killed him.  Had it been anybody else talking to you that way, disrespecting you like that, you would have. You’d have taken your gun and put a bullet through their brain without a second thought, and then you’d have called one of your guys in to clean up the mess.  But not him…

Why not him?

The same reason, you imagined, that he was able to get under your skin at all.  Because you still remembered what it was like to love him.  You still remembered how it felt to give yourself up to him, to have his hands burning hot against your skin and feel him fall to pieces.  You still felt a flicker of affection deep in your heart when he smiled, no matter how much negativity you dumped on it to try and extinguish that persistent fondness.

And, you supposed, there was an element of curiosity too.  It had been nearly two years since your paths had last crossed and you had questions that you wanted answers to, though you hadn’t yet been brave enough to ask them.  To open up, to seek the answers, would be to show a little humanity, a sliver of weakness, and you didn’t trust him not to take advantage of that, to use it to try and break you.  Where was his wife?  That was the main one.  It had become obvious almost immediately that he was unattached, despite the harem that your men had delightedly told you about, and you wondered whether he’d lost her before or after; whether the cancer had claimed her or if she’d fallen victim to the plague of the undead.  Or, maybe, just maybe, she’d had enough of his cheating, lying, scheming ways and kicked his ass to the kerb before either outcome had had the chance to come to pass.

You wanted to know what his life had been like after you’d left.  You wanted to know if he’d had others, whether he’d tempted them into his bed with his charming smile and false affection, and whether they’d been as crushed by his betrayal as you had been.  You wanted to know when the world had ended for him and how he’d come to lead a place like the Sanctuary.  You wanted to know who he was now, so you could be sure that you were right to hate the man he’d become, instead of a shadowy figure from the past.

The knowledge that he was in the same building as you in that same moment, in that same second, only made your curiosity more pressing.  You’d left somebody else to do the dirty work when you’d brought him in, hauling him away to one of the cells that you’d fashioned from old storage cupboards, lined with corrugated steel and with bolts and reinforcement added to the doors, but you could picture him well enough, cramped in the tight space, unable to stretch out his long legs.  His hands would still be cuffed, but loose enough to allow him to sip at the water ration he’d have been provided, and he’d have been left in just his t-shirt and pants; boots, socks and jacket removed to allow the chill of the metal to really set in. He’d be uncomfortable, on edge, vulnerable, and a part of you revelled in that.  But another part realised that perhaps this was the best time to get the answers that you needed.  He was weaker than you as your prisoner, beaten down by the situation, and maybe he wouldn’t make you chase for the information.  Maybe he’d offer it up willingly in the hope that you might soften towards him, or take pity and kill him after all.

You considered it for a beat longer before you sat upright and swung your legs out of bed. Your skin was damp with sweat, but you ignored it, tugging off your sleep shorts and tank top, and dressing quickly in your usual uniform: ripped jeans, a faded t-shirt, laced up boots that were worn down on the heel.  If you thought about it any longer, you’d change your mind, and you couldn’t do that now that it was finally made up.  Yes, to ask questions might appear weak, but going crazy not knowing was what would truly prove to be your downfall.  Clutching on to that brutal truth, you grabbed Negan’s bat from where it stood against the wall and tugged open the door.  You were going to get answers and you were going to get them tonight, no matter what it took.

 

* * *

 

_Negan’s POV_

Negan had always thought that he excelled at torture.  Blaring loud music on repeat, stacks of moulding dog food to dish up for dinner; a beatdown every now and then as a reminder of who was in charge.  He’d strip his prisoners of their clothes as a way of stripping them of their identity, and sooner or later they’d cave to his will.  It was inevitable.  It worked.

But Y/N… She was in a league of her own.  The cell was tiny.  For a normal-sized human being, it would have been uncomfortable, but for him, six foot whatever and most of those inches from his waist down to his toes, it was agonising not to be able to stretch out, ease the ache in his joints.  He couldn’t relax, having to sit upright at all times, the corrugated steel that lined the walls meaning he couldn’t lean against them in order to rest, and his spine was paying the price.  The combination of metal and concrete and lack of any windows kept the room cold, and he wriggled his toes to try and regain the feeling in them, though just that action sent one of his calf muscles into spasm.  It was hell, pure and simple, and she’d had to expend exactly zero effort to get him there.  If he’d used methods like this, he would’ve been breaking people in hours, not days or weeks, he was sure, and he wanted to hate her for it.

How he actually felt was… complicated.  He’d had a lot of time to think about it over the past week.  Nothing but time in fact.  All there was was darkness and the occasional visit from a guard to bring him water, food (if you could really call it that) and empty his waste bucket, and time ticking steadily onward.  And during that time he’d replayed every moment: the way she’d screamed at her dumbass boyfriend the first time he’d seen her, a picture of drunken despair as she sank to the ground outside of the bar, all smudged make-up and watery eyes; how she’d slowly opened up to him as he’d plied her with whiskey and told her all kinds of stories, because he’d wanted her to know him so she might let him get to know her; how badly he’d wanted to kiss her the night that he’d walked her home, and how she’d cried before they’d slept together for the first time, afraid to lose her virginity and to not, in case she should never feel that way about anyone again; how she’d looked at him the night she’d found out about Lucille, like he was a stranger and she had no idea why or how she could have let him touch her; and the icy cold glare she’d fixed him with before she’d walked out of his front door for the last time.  He could feel every single moment like it was yesterday and he knew then that she’d never really left his heart.  He’d shut it down, cut her off, hidden those feelings away because Lucille was his wife and she was dying, and yes, he was an ass, but he wasn’t the kind of man that could abandon a woman he loved when she was growing weaker every day, but he’d never really gotten over it.  And now here he was.

She was all kinds of impressive, he couldn’t deny it.  When she’d first brought him in, she’d given him the grand tour herself.  He’d thought at the time that maybe that was a sign, that maybe she wanted to spend more time in his company, but he’d been wrong.  It was simply an opportunity to gloat.  She’d walked him around the huge concrete monstrosity that she called home, an abandoned office block from what he could tell, that she’d repurposed and reinforced until it was damn near impenetrable by those who weren’t invited in, and she’d shown him exactly what kept it all ticking, and he’d been in awe.  It was everything that he’d hoped the Sanctuary might become one day, except she’d beaten him to the punch.  She had it all: resources, manpower, protection.  In was an apocalyptic heaven and he envied what she’d managed to achieve.  Her people regarded her with a mix of fear and respect and, though they didn’t bow as she walked by, they ducked their heads, those she deigned to speak with becoming flustered at the privilege.  Shit, at any other time, in any other circumstance, he would’ve thought it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, when it fact all it really meant was that he was screwed.  Really fucking screwed.

‘Gotta say, doll,’ he’d begun, ‘this place is really something.  I mean, shit, you built all this?  From the bottom up?’

She’d nodded.

‘Goddamn.’

Her eyes had narrowed and he’d sensed straight away that he’d said the wrong thing.  ‘What?  You don’t believe me?’

‘Course I fucking believe you.  It’s not like you got any reason to lie, right?’

‘You sure about that?  Because by the look on your face, I’d say you were expecting me to be the same pathetic girly-girl who ate up all your lies and wouldn’t know where to start with keeping an army in line.  What’s wrong, Negan?  You don’t like it when your conquests finally grow up?’

‘I was trying to pay you a compliment, sweetheart.  Trust me, I got the message that you’ve grown your own set of lady balls when you had half my men slaughtered at the side of the road.  Ain’t nobody questioning whether you’re a badass round here.’

She’d had him taken away then, with just a nod to her second in command, a steely-eyed soldier named Marco that Negan had taken an immediate dislike to.  He was efficient, he had to give him that, following every order Y/N issued without question, but there was something about the way he looked at her that set Negan on edge.  He found himself wondering whether they were involved, but that was his own personal form of torture and he pushed the question down.  If they were, it seemed he was a hell of a lot more into her than she was him - she’d barely cast a second glance his way as they walked the halls.  Plus, with the way Negan found that he was able to rile her up, he doubted anybody else had made it through the steel cage in place around her heart since he’d broken it well and truly.  He suspected that, if it hadn’t turned completely to ice as she seemed so deadset on proving, he might just still own a tiny part of it himself.

Frustrated and with his pain getting the better of him, Negan eased himself to his feet, careful not to overbalance without the use of his hands.  He needed to sleep, really sleep, couldn’t remember the last time he’d managed to snatch more than thirty minutes or so at a time, but the unforgiving surroundings weren’t going to allow it.  So, he paced.  Two steps one way, two steps the other, back and forth as the hours crept on.  He could only gauge the time by the sounds on the other side of the doorway.  Shut away in his prison, it was all the same darkness whether it be night or day, but, for now, it was quiet, so he could only assume that the community slumbered on.

And then a voice, hushed, only noticeable because it had been so damn silent before.

‘Hey, I can take it from here.  Go take a break.’

‘Really, boss?  You sure.’

‘You questioning me?  I said go take a break.’

Negan tensed.  Y/N.  He hadn’t seen her since that first day that she’d brought him in, a week ago now, and he’d thought he might not see her again, not until she had a use for him.  But now here she was, creeping through the corridors to seek him out, and his gut churned as he racked his brain for a reason why.

There was a screech of metal, then another, and the clunk of the key turning in the lock, and then the door to his cell swung slowly open, revealing her standing in a soft pool of torchlight, Lucille swinging from her hand.

‘Shit, doll, shouldn’t you be sleeping?  What the hell are you doing here?’

‘We need to talk.’


	7. Chapter 7

_Negan’s POV_

Y/N’s skin shone in the torchlight, the tiredness painted over her features highlighted by the glow, and Negan watched warily as she stepped inside, keeping her distance as much as was possible in the cramped space of the cell.  She left the door open, but he could see the glint of metal on her belt where her gun was holstered and once again she had Lucille clutched in her hand, as if she could sense that it hurt him to see her with it.  He wasn’t stupid enough to try and run and she knew it.  So, it was with a smug kind of confidence that she leant against the wall opposite him, wrinkling her nose when the steel ridges dug into her spine.

‘Wow, this is kinda uncomfortable, huh?’

‘Pretty sure you designed it that way,’ he observed, though he mirrored her stance, wrapping his arms around himself to fend off the chill.  ‘Doubt you’ve spent much time down here yourself though, right?  Too busy lording it up upstairs surrounded by all the people that love you.’

‘They don’t love me, Negan.  They respect me.  There’s a difference.  If you understood that, maybe you wouldn’t be here right now while my guys sort out the mess you made back home.’

‘Ouch.’  And again, she came out swinging.  It seemed as if her entire being had turned to ice, and he rolled his eyes, tiring already of the conversation as his intrigue at her presence began to ebb.  He was exhausted and in pain, and the last thing he needed was a sniping match with the one that got away.  What he really wanted was to sleep.  ‘So, c’mon then, doll.  You said you wanted to talk, let’s talk.  Except, I gotta say, I’m not too sure what exactly you think you and I might have to talk about.’

She shrugged, resting the tip of Lucille against the toe of her boot and focusing her gaze on the beautiful barbs that caught on the leather.  ‘Thought we could catch up, I guess.’

‘Catch up?  In the middle of the night?  While I’m your fucking prisoner?’  He let out a long, low whistle.  ‘Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry.  I’m not feeling real chatty right now.’

‘It’s not personal, you know?’  She gestured vaguely at their bleak surroundings with one hand.  'All of this.  It isn’t because of our history or because of what you did to me.  It’s just how it has to be.  I’d do the same to anyone.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Sure it is.  You can’t be too careful these days, Negan.  Give someone an inch and they’ll take a mile.  Give them your trust and they’ll stick a knife in your back.  It doesn’t mean I don’t wanna talk to you.  It’s just… business.’

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest and he shook his head, unable to miss the irony.  God, she sounded like him.  Was he really that big an asshole?  He’d thought he was doing the right thing, saving people, building something, but look at her now, taking it just that little bit further.  It was a wake-up call and it shook him to his core.  He could have become this.  It was a scary notion.  ‘Well, doll, in that case what is it that you wanna talk about?’

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath and he knew what was coming before the words left her lips.  'Where is she?  Your wife?  She was sick before and, as far as I can tell, she wasn’t with you back at the factory.  Did she…’

‘Die?’  Negan cast his eyes at the baseball bat still hanging at Y/N’s side and nodded slowly.  'Yeah.  Yeah, she passed away just about the time this whole fucking thing started.  Skin and bones she was, stuck in a damn hospital bed while the world went nuts outside her window.  Still, it was probably better that way.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not.  Lucille, she wasn’t cut out for this shit.  She couldn’t have made it in this world.  At least she went peacefully, in her sleep.  Could’ve been a whole lot fucking worse.’

'And then what happened?’  She was watching him with wide eyes, as if she’d expected to have to fight for the information, and Negan supposed he could understand that.  In all honesty, he hadn’t thought she’d ever summon up the balls to ask, even if he knew the questions must’ve been whirling around in her head.  How could they not be?  There was so much they each didn’t know.

'I ran.  Like a fucking pussy.  She turned, pretty damn quick actually, and I was too weak to put her down, so I paid some kid to do it for me and I ran.’

'Shit.  That sounds…’

'Yeah.’  It was his turn now, and he tried to keep his expression neutral as he tilted his head to one side, watching her push her hair back from her face and blink tiredness away.  'What about you?  Where were you when the undead got struck with a bad case of the munchies?’

'In my dorm.  I’d just finished my last semester.  I was packing to go home.’

'Let me guess… You never made it.’

'Nope.  I tried to go, after everything fell apart, but you know what it was like.  The highways were jammed and those things were everywhere.  In the end I gave up.  Figured everybody I knew would be dead anyway.’

‘You were on your own?’

'Yep.’

'No friends with you?  No boyfriend?’

She arched an eyebrow at him.  'Smooth.’

'What?’

'The boyfriend thing?  Trying to figure out how quickly I moved on?’

'Nah,’ he insisted with a shake of his head.  'Just curious is all.  You’re a beautiful girl, you know that, and you always seemed so… So full of life.  Hard for me to picture you striking out solo, that’s all.’

She seemed to consider that for a moment, deciding his reply passed muster before she went on.  'It was just me.  After… I’d kind of shut myself off from everyone.  My friends lost interest pretty quick.  It’s like that at college, right?  And I’d  sworn off guys completely.  It was just easier on my own.’

'Sounds pretty damn lonely, sweetheart.’

'Maybe.  But it worked for me.’  She cleared her throat, and he thought he might have seen the shine of tears in her eyes, but he told himself it was just a trick of the light.  'What about you?  Lure any other innocent distractions into your bedroom after I walked out?’

‘Shit, doll, don’t go holding back on me now,’ he teased, trying to deny the ache that her words had caused in his gut.  'I don’t remember you putting up too much of a fight.’

'I didn’t know you were married.’

He sighed.  'There was no one else, not after you.’

‘Guilty conscience?’

'Yeah, actually,’ he admitted.  'I’d cheated before, I’m not gonna lie.  I’m an asshole, you know that.  But you, you were different.  You were the first one that messed with my feelings as well as my dick and yeah, I felt pretty damn bad about that.’

'You expect me to believe that?’

‘Believe what you want.  What the hell does it matter now anyway, right?  It’s in the past.  But, yeah, I fell for you pretty damn hard and it broke me.’

'That makes two of us.’  Her voice was barely a whisper and he inched closer to her, wishing that he was man enough to reach out and comfort her, but he wasn’t sure what reaction he would get.  'You were all I thought about for months.  You were my first, Negan.  I gave you everything.’

'I know.  Did I mention I’m an asshole?’

'Did you think about me?’ she asked.  'Afterwards, I mean, when we were done.  Did you miss me?’

'Oh, sweetheart, you barely fucking crossed my mind.’  Her expression darkened.  'I couldn’t let you, couldn’t let you in, so I just convinced myself that it never fucking happened.  It was the only way I could look Lucille in the eye.’

'It was that easy?’

'No, it wasn’t fucking easy.  But I pushed through it.  For her.  And for you.  Otherwise you’d have been on the receiving end of some pretty dark 2am phonecalls and I don’t think you’d have thanked me for that.’

'Probably not.’

‘For what it’s worth though, I’m sorry.  For what happened, for how it ended.  You deserved a whole lot fucking better and I hope you know that.’

For a moment she fell silent, and he wondered whether her guard had come back up, conversation over, but then she offered him a small smile, possibly the first genuine one he’d seen grace her features since she’d stormed back into his life.  'I guess I owe you, really.’

'How’d you figure?’

'When we broke up, I shut down.  I didn’t want to feel anything because it just hurt so bad, and I didn’t trust anybody because I didn’t trust my own instincts anymore.  I ate your lies up, Negan.  I mean, I never suspected a thing, and after that, I just… I didn’t believe a word that anybody said.  I didn’t go out, I didn’t see my friends, I just cut myself off.  I was numb, I guess, for a long time, and when I came out the other side, everybody had stopped caring so I did the same.  I let myself become hard and cold, and that’s probably the reason I’m alive right now.’

‘Well, then, you’re welcome.’  He hoped his smirk showed that he was joking, unable to stand the pain that laced her voice as she talked about what she’d been through, what he put her through.  And, when she returned it, he knew that it did.  ‘For what it’s worth, you’re still one heck of a girl, Y/N.  A real spitfire.  Always knew you had it in you.’

‘Yeah, I’m a badass.’  Her tone was flat, deadpan, and her head fell back to rest against the metal ridge behind her, eyes flickering shut.  ‘It’s exhausting.’

‘Doesn’t have to be.’  She fixed him with questioning look.  ‘Hey, I’m just saying you don’t have to do it all alone, doll, that’s all.  It doesn’t have to be this way.  I get it, I do, the lack of trust.  We’ve all seen shit that we’d rather forget, had to fight our way out of a few fucking sticky situations, but not everybody’s looking to take you down.’

‘No?’

‘No.  I mean, I was building something pretty fucking similar to this back at the Sanctuary in case you hadn’t noticed.  And yeah, you’re right, maybe I was a little soft and maybe it would have all blown up in my face one day, but you’re tired, stretched, and that could just as easily be your downfall, sweetheart.  Maybe we could help each other.’

 

* * *

 

_Y/N’s POV_

It had gone better than you’d thought.  It had almost been nice, standing in the darkness, listening to the familiar throaty rasp of his voice, and you’d found that the barrier you’d thrown up to protect yourself had cracked, just a little.  You’d been brutally honest, and, you thought, he’d been the same, and it felt good to get it off your chest after all this time, to level with him and let him know that he was to blame for monumentally fucking you up and equally the reason that you’d made it this far.

He was staring at you now, dark eyes fixed on yours as he continued on, bringing a flush of warmth to your cheeks as you considered the possibility that he was laying out for you.

‘We could build something amazing together, sweetheart, don’t tell me you don’t see that.  We’ve got the same vision, just different ways of doing things.  We put our heads together, there’ll be no fucking stopping us.  Think about it.  Maybe you could actually take a day off every once in a while, huh?  Get some downtime.  We both could.  It’d be a damn beautiful thing.’

You knew your hesitation could be read into, that he was probably relishing your silence as you processed his words.  It had nothing to do with trust or love or history.  No, in that moment it was purely the temptation of sharing the burden of leadership that prevented you from shutting him down immediately.  To wake up in the morning and know that every difficult decision for the future of your community didn’t rest solely on your shoulders, to drift off to sleep and know that there was somebody else keeping an eye on things, making sure that everything kept ticking over as it should while you rested…  After so long standing alone at the top just the idea of it was a tonic, and you closed your eyes, picturing it for a moment, ruling with Negan at your side.  

But, when you opened them again, he’d moved closer, his gaze still fixed on your face, warm and inviting, chocolate irises locking on yours before drifting south to your lips.  A large calloused hand was reaching out to cup your cheek, a long body drawing flush with yours, pressing you in to the wall behind you, the corrugated steel digging in to the flesh on either side of your spine, and then his mouth was descending on yours, tongue snaking out to trace your bottom lip.

You jolted at the sensation, jerking your knee up until it met the apex of his thighs and sending him tumbling to the ground as you pushed him roughly away, wiping the taste of him from your mouth with the back of your hand.

‘How fucking dare you?’  He was watching you with wide eyes, confusion and hurt tugging at your heart, though you shut the feeling down abruptly.  This was your mistake.  You’d let him get too close.  It wouldn’t happen again.  ‘Let me make one thing clear, okay?  You don’t touch me.  You don’t kiss me; you don’t lay a hand on me; God, you don’t even look at me ever again!  You’re not my equal!  You’re beneath me, and you will never, ever stand at my side, do you hear me?  Never!’

You ended your speech by landing a fierce kick to his ribcage, smirking at the grunt of pain the blow pulled from him, his bat hovering threateningly close to his face as he curled inwards, arms wrapped around himself like a shield.  And then you turned and walked out without a backwards glance, slamming the door shut behind you.  


	8. Chapter 8

_Negan’s POV_

Weeks passed.  Negan didn’t see Y/N again.  After she’d come to his cell in the night and he’d made the stupid, jackass move of trying to kiss her, he couldn’t really blame her for keeping her distance.  He’d read the signals wrong, got caught up in the nostalgia of it all, the hope that maybe he’d thawed her core of ice, and damn, she’d made him pay for it.  It sure was a good thing that he was too old and jaded to want to bring kids into the world, because his balls were permanently damaged, going on the ache that had lasted for days, and his ribs had reminded him of his fuck-up every time he moved.  And so, he didn’t move.  He sat.  Occasionally he stood to stretch his legs.  And then he sat some more.  The darkness became a companion, and soon exhaustion and the desperate desire to escape allowed sleep to come a little easier.  

And then came the morning when his cell door creaked open and Marco appeared, tossing a change of clothes into his lap with a sneer of superiority on his face.  He stooped to remove Negan’s shackles, wrinkling his nose in distaste.  

‘Get changed.  You stink, man.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you keep a guy locked up for weeks on end without so much as a bucket of water to wash in, man.’

Still, he shed his dirty shirt and trousers and tugged on the replacements, rolling his eyes when the jeans ended somewhere an inch or two above his ankles.  His old boots were returned to him too, and he pulled those on, the feeling strangely foreign after spending so long with his feet bare.

‘So, to what do I owe this new and exciting luxury?’ he asked as he straightened up from tying his laces, wary as Marco stepped forward to resecure his cuffs.  

‘Can’t afford to keep you here like this forever.  Around here we work for our keep.  Got a job for you.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Hey, if it was up to me I’d put a bullet through your skull and free up your rations for someone else, but Y/N says you work, so you work.’

And so it was that he now spent several days a week on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floors of the corridors and the canteen.  It was mind-numbing, back-breaking work.  His knuckles bled, his finger blistered from gripping the wire brush he’d been given, and his joints complained each time he folded his long body back down to the ground.  It would have been far more productive, he knew, to give him a mop.  It’s what he would’ve done had it been his prisoner assigned the task.  But, despite Marco’s words, he had a feeling that productivity had nothing to do with this.  It was about making him feel small, quite literally putting him beneath Y/N and her soldiers, and so he kept quiet, got on with it, and lost himself in the monotony.

Occasionally, he’d raise his head to see a familiar face, watching him through curious eyes: his men, those that had been brought here after the ambush out on the road, pitying him for the position he now found himself in, he was sure, or else blaming him for their spectacular fall from power.  He didn’t notice the marks at first.  It didn’t really start to sink in until he began to recognise others, people from the Sanctuary that weren’t fighters, hadn’t been with the convoy on the rescue mission gone wrong.  Their skin was unblemished, but they still carried that same look of fear, wary and on edge, and he found himself growing angry as they passed by without a word.  There were so many questions.  He needed so many answers, and there wasn’t a single soul that could or would give them to him.  In fact, nobody really spoke to him at all.  He was a ghost.

It was dark in the corridor, no windows to cast a dawn glow over the floor that Negan scrubbed, having been dragged from his cell in the early hours of the morning and put to work.  The rest of the building was silent, the community still sleeping, and he grumbled under his breath as he thrust his brush back into his bucket, sloshing water up and over the sides.  His guard snored quietly at his post in the corner, something he was sure Y/N would frown on, but it didn’t matter really.  He couldn’t run.  The place was a fortress.  He wouldn’t make it out of the building.

Sitting back on his heels, he rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the pain in his spine.  The light patter of footsteps approaching though sent him to his knees once again, in anticipation of the appearance of another soldier.  

‘Negan?’

He’d kept his head bowed, a lesson he’d learned the hard way early on, but he glanced up now, brow furrowing until recognition spiked in his weary brain.  The woman standing over him didn’t have the easy smile he’d seen her wear before, and her dark hair was growing out, almost past the ridges of her collarbone, but she was definitely one of his.  

‘Violet?’  He staggered to his feet, groaning as he did so, hating the look of concern in her eyes as they flicked between him and the guard who slumbered on.  ‘What the hell are you doing here, sweetheart?’

‘I- They- They brought me here a few weeks ago, with some others.  I didn’t… I’d heard you were still around but…’  She tailed off, uncertain, afraid, and he nodded slowly.

‘Yeah, I’m still here, just about.  They treating you okay?  How were things back at the Sanctuary before you left?’

‘Fine.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.  It’s all just… fine.’  She swallowed hard.  ‘I shouldn’t be talking to you.’

‘Nobody here to see it.’  Noticing how her eyes immediately went back to his guard, Negan ushered her a little further away, keeping his voice low.  ‘He won’t wake up till he hears the breakfast bell, trust me.  Lazy fucker.’

She nodded then, seemingly a little more at ease, leaning back against the wall and propping one foot up beside her knee.  ‘Looks like they’re working you pretty hard.’

‘I’m coping.  What about you?  What’s got you up and about this early?’

‘Well.’  She paused to tuck her hair back behind one ear.  ‘I wanted to work in the kitchens, like I did back home, y’know?  And they said I could but I have to work my way up, so mostly right now I’m just cleaning them.  Gotta make sure they’re sparkling before breakfast prep starts.’

‘And who’s running the kitchens at the factory now?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.  ‘After the uprising, they brought a lot of us over here as a deterrent or something, I guess.  I don’t even know how many people are left back there.’

‘Wait, wait, wait a second.’  Negan had stopped listening after the first reference he didn’t understand, and he held up a hand to silence her, ducking his head as he tried to make sense of her words.  ‘Uprising?  What are you talking about?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘Well, obviously, sweetheart, I don’t.  Care to fill me in.’

Flustered, she dropped her gaze to the ground, focusing on the thin strip of skin between the end of Negan’s trouser leg and his boot.  ‘Some of your Saviors, they decided they’d had enough, I think.  They were whisperings of a rebellion.  I mean, I don’t know for sure.  I wasn’t here.  But it sounds like some of them joined together and made a play for power, took out a couple of Y/N’s guys while they were at it.’

‘Shit.’  Negan’s eyes were wide.

‘Yeah.  From what I’ve heard, anyone even rumoured to be involved was executed.’

‘Do we know who was leading it?’

‘S-Simon, I was told.  I’m sorry.  I know you were close.’

The first nagging ache of grief invaded Negan’s chest, but he pushed it down, reserving it for later when he could take the time to really feel it.  ‘Well, I’ll be damned.  This have anything to do with the brands I’ve been seeing on the backs of people’s hands?’

Violet nodded again.  ‘Y/N wanted to remind everybody that people from our community couldn’t be trusted, and she wanted to make sure that the Saviors learnt their lesson, so she branded anybody that was left with the letter T for traitor.’

‘Fuck.’  He shook his head at the brutality of it.  Sure, he’d been known to use violence like that as a deterrent before, but his target had only ever been the perpetrator.  To brand every single one of his Saviors left standing just as a warning…  It was heartless and cruel, and damn brilliant, if he was honest.  It was the way a true leader should act, one without any humanity or moral judgement, acting on logic alone.  He hadn’t realised she was that far gone.  ‘And that’s when they brought the rest of you over here?’

‘Women and children, mostly.  From what I can tell, Y/N wanted to reunite families.  We’re not seen as much of a threat, and the men will fall in line if they’re scared of their wives, their kids, their mothers getting hurt, right?’  She shrugged.  ‘It happened this way before.  I just… I got out.  I thought I’d escaped.  Should’ve known really.’

‘Before?’  Again, Negan was confused.

‘The last group I was with.  Y/N found our camp and she took our strongest with her, left her own soldiers behind, she said, to keep us safe.  And then they began to take a few more of us every time they stopped by for supplies.  I could see what was coming and I ran.’

‘Shit, doll, when you said you’d lost your last place, I just assumed-’

‘Walkers.  I know.  Everybody does.  It’s easier to let them think that than to try to explain…’  She tailed off.  ‘Maybe if I had though, if I’d told you, you might have been more careful.  We might not be here right now.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ he reassured her, flinching as a door slammed shut on one of the floors above them.  ‘I promise you, sweetheart, none of this is down to you, okay?  You just keep your head down and keep yourself alive for me.’

‘I will.’

 

* * *

 

_Y/N’s POV_

_How had it come to this?_

The water beat down on your head, hot and stinging, and you stood, dazed, trembling, gaze fixed on the tiles at your feet.   

_How had you let this happen?_

You could still feel the blood on your hands, warm and sticky and thick, and you wrung them together under the flow, rubbing and scratching until your skin was pink and swollen.  And still, you could feel it.

_It shouldn’t have gone down that way, it just shouldn’t have.  Somebody should have warned you.  Somebody should have stopped you.  You would have listened.  Would you have listened?_

A strangled howl burst forth from your throat, and you dropped to your knees, slumping to one side as you brought your legs up to your chest.  Heaving sobs racked your body.  The water ran cold as you sat there, pouring your misery down the drain with the dirt and gore that had stained your skin, and still you didn’t move.  Disturbing images flashed across your vision: death on your orders; death at your hands; a street littered with bodies, so small, so very tiny.  You couldn’t breathe.  Your chest was tightening, so that you couldn’t even cry anymore, and you brought your head up fast, smacking it off of the wall behind you, shocking yourself out of the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm your senses.  

_What had you done?_

You crawled towards your towel.  Standing was beyond you, walking even more so, and so you dragged it with you, back into your room, hauling your body onto your bed and tucking the soft cotton around yourself, still shaking, though whether from the cold or the horror you weren’t sure.

It had been a rough couple of months.  From the kiss with Negan, which you still hated yourself for, to the uprising that you’d found yourself battling.  There had been punishments to serve, executions to perform, and then the branding… The damn branding seemed to go on forever.  It was necessary, but it churned in your gut, the stench of sizzling flesh, and you’d felt sick for days afterwards.  And then you’d had to reassess the numbers and shift patterns of your guards, just to drive the point home that the Survivalists endured, that they couldn’t be taken down, that any attempt would only result in them surging back, stronger than ever.  So, was it really any wonder then that you’d been on edge that afternoon?  That it had all just got too much when that one stubborn community had refused to fall into line?  That you’d given an order that you’d come to regret almost immediately?

But by that point it had been too late.  There was no going back.  The damage was done and there would be no going back, not ever.

You lost track of time as you lay there, replaying the moment, over and over: the screams; the coppery tang of blood in the air.  What sort of monster had you become that such atrocities were being committed in your name?  What did it mean for you that it had taken this long for you to feel it, to really feel all of the blood on your hands?  You hadn’t always been this person, you were sure of it, hadn’t started out as a dictator who saw life as a right to be earned.  But you couldn’t remember being any other way.  

Finally, summoning the energy to ease yourself upright, you dressed, though you paid little attention to what you were pulling on.  It didn’t matter in that moment.  You had a purpose, a reason, someone to blame, and that drove you onwards as you stumbled towards your door.  Negan.  You had to talk to Negan.  It was his fault, really, totally and completely.  And it suddenly seemed vitally important that you tell him that.


	9. Chapter 9

_Y/N’s POV_

‘Look at me.’

Negan continued his work, long body hunched over the canteen floor, continuously scrubbing, working the brush forwards and back.  He’d barely glanced up when you’d entered, hadn’t reacted at all when you’d dismissed his guard, and now he ignored you again, acting as if you hadn’t spoken at all.

‘I said look at me.’

Still nothing.  No reaction.  In that second, you hated him.  The desire to hurt, to kill, to lash out and inflict pain bubbled up within you, simmering deep in your gut, and you marched towards him, aiming a sharp kick to the bucket at his side and sending it clattering across the ground, showering the room with filthy water.

‘Look at me!’  You hadn’t meant to lose your temper.  It wasn’t why you’d come here, not really.  To blame him, yes, but not to scream at him, not with the emotion evident in your voice and tears welling in your eyes.  But it worked, because finally he was raising his head to fix you with those deep chocolate irises, lost somewhere between confusion, contempt and concern.  And weariness.  You were struck by how exhausted he appeared, how sunken his cheeks were, how the beard that had been peppered with grey when he arrived was now almost entirely silver.  Somewhere deep in your heart, the idea of remorse taunted you, but you shut it down.  That wasn’t why you’d come here either.  ‘What do you see, Negan, huh?  What do you see standing in front of you right now?’

Silence.  Only silence and that unwavering gaze.

‘Do you see a monster?  Is that what you see?  Is that what I’ve become?’

He blinked, the action slow and steady, intentional.  But still he said nothing, and you knew he was biding his time, waiting to see how this was going to play out.  You could understand that.  You hadn’t seen him for weeks, had intentionally avoided him, delegating any task that might bring you close to him to Marco and busying yourself elsewhere, and now here you were, barely holding it together as you aimed questions at him that he’d be a fool to answer.

‘God, how did I get like this?  How did I become this person?  Was I always like this?’

And now, those eyes, probing, penetrating, dropped to the toes of your boots, and you knew that he knew the answer.

‘You did this, Negan, you know that?  You turned me into this- this… God, this psycho!  You made me cold and you made me hard and you made me hate myself, and now I don’t even know where the line is anymore because I just can’t seem to stop crossing it!  This is your fault!  It’s all your fault!  And I- I- I-’

The words that had been pouring from your lips in a torrent of venom just moments before suddenly disappeared from your mind as a wave of misery and guilt and grief overwhelmed you.  Images from earlier that day scrolled across your vision, a neverending kaleidoscope of death and horror, and you were blinded by tears, your shoulders shaking, when a gentle hand came to rest on the small of your back, guiding you across the room, pushing you down into a hard, plastic chair.  

‘Alright, doll, that’s enough.  Why don’t you pull yourself together and tell me what the fuck happened?’

You should have bristled at the way he was speaking to you, like you were a petulant child throwing a tantrum, but his voice was a warm rasp, so familiar, almost kind, and you needed that more than you ever had before.  When you scrubbed the traces of your tears away, you found that he was crouched before you, watching, waiting for you to go on, to explain yourself, and you opened your mouth to speak.  No words came.

‘C’mon, Y/N.  I know you.  You’ve been avoiding my stupid ass since I put the moves on you back in my cell, and I get it, I do.  And then you march in here, start screaming like a damn harpy, and you expect me to believe that, what?  You were just having a quiet night?  Something’s got you all shook up, sweetheart, and you’re gonna need to tell me what it is or it’s gonna eat away at you.  Trust me, I know a bit about this sorta shit.  I’ve been there.  So, start talking.’

You took a shaky breath, tugging on your fingers as you fought back a fresh bout of sobs that were sitting in your chest, just waiting to erupt.  ‘We- we went to visit one of our new communities today.’

‘Yeah?’

You nodded.  ‘I’ve had a few guys watching them for a while, but we’ve been busy, a little stretched.  So, it was only today that we made our move.  I went out there with a couple of trucks, introduced myself, put on the whole show.  You know.  You’ve seen it.’  Negan arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, so you went on.  ‘They were… resistant.  It became clear pretty quickly that they weren’t going to fall in line, so I… I got tired, I guess.  There’s just been so much shit going on, and I couldn’t be bothered to deal with another bunch of assholes that couldn’t see that what I was offering was a better way of life, so I… I…’

‘What did you do?’

‘I gave the order to kill them all.’  You could see his disapproval writ over his face, as easy as reading text on a page, but that wasn’t even the worst of it, and you struggled now to justify what you’d done.  ‘It’s what we do, okay?  It’s what we’ve always done.  It’s the only thing that guarantees total obedience, total control.  The only thing people fear in this world is death.’

‘Well, that’s not true,’ Negan scoffed in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.  ‘I’m pretty damn scared of you.’

The fake laugh that you tried to summon caught in your throat, finally escaping you as a choked sob, and his face fell serious once more.  

‘What is it?’ he prompted, tentatively reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours when you didn’t pull away.  It was a mistake, you knew.  You shouldn’t be letting him touch you, and yet… ‘What made it different this time?’

‘They had children,’ you whispered, unable to bring yourself to speak the truth aloud as if that would make it all the more real.  ‘So many children.  I-I’ve never seen a community with so many kids before now, and I… I didn’t realise.  I didn’t see until it was too late, and by the time I called to my men to stop…’  

‘Hey, it’s okay.’  He was reaching up now, stroking your hair back from your face, and when you pulled away, it wasn’t because you didn’t want him to touch you, it was because you didn’t deserve it.  ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Yes, it is!  I’m the boss.  I run this place.  I make the decisions, all of the decisions.  And I decided that those people needed to die.  Because they weren’t useful enough, and I didn’t want them to come after us if we just turned and walked away.  I’m the reason that those children will never grow up, that those babies… Those babies died in their parents’ arms.  God, I did it.  I killed a little boy.  Pulled the trigger before I realised ‘cause I felt someone coming up behind me, and I can see his face, Negan.  All I can see is his face.’

You broke down again, and this time there was no coming back from it.  Your body curled in on itself in the chair and you fell apart, rocking back and forth as you cried.  You were barely aware of the strong arms wrapping around you until suddenly you were on your feet, being cradled against a broad chest, and you twisted your head to bury your face in the crook of his neck, trembling as everything you’d thought you knew came undone.  And Negan held you, stroking slow, soothing circles over your back, combing the tangles from your hair, murmuring deep, rumbling nothings into your ear as you let your grief take over.

 

* * *

 

_Negan’s POV_

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been standing there.  He wasn’t sure exactly how he’d ended up with Y/N in his arms at all, let alone sobbing like her heart was breaking and the world as she knew it had come to an end.  And yet, he supposed, from what she said, that it had.  For so long she’d ruled with an iron fist, making the rules up as she went along and cutting down anyone that didn’t feel like falling in line, and now it had come back to bite her in the ass.

Kids.  Negan tried to put himself in her shoes, to imagine how she might be feeling.  He’d kinda been there, he supposed.  There’d been a incident with a community a while back that had taken a stand against his new world order.  Simon, in his infinite wisdom, had taken a team out there and slaughtered every man in their camp to show them just who was in charge and, from the stories he’d heard later, that had included some boys of around ten or eleven, cut down before they could even reach their prime, but he hadn’t been there to see it, hadn’t given the order that resulted in their deaths.  Hell, he’d busted Simon’s balls for months over that.  There was guilt, sure, that it had been done in his name, but the burden didn’t rest on his shoulders.

Nah, he couldn’t begin to imagine how she was feeling, so he just kept holding her, squeezing her so tight that he thought he might actually be hurting her at one point when she let out a pained little whimper, but, when he’d loosened his grip, she’d just nestled closer.  And he let her cry, glad that at last he was seeing a sliver of humanity gleaming through the facade, a trace of the girl he used to know shining through.  It wasn’t an ideal circumstance, far from it, but it was something.  The fact that she’d sought him out was something.

As if reading his thoughts, she finally pulled away, looking up to regard him through wide, bloodshot eyes.  He waited for her to realise her mistake, where she was, who she was talking to; to push him away and flounce out as seemed to be her style.  But instead, she tilted her head to one side, confusion furrowing her brow.  ‘Why can’t I seem to stay away from you?’

‘You seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it up till now, especially considering you locked me up in your fucking house, doll,’ he pointed out, aiming to draw out a laugh, a smile at least, but only sending another shiver of remorse through her body.  She took a step closer to him, and he held his breath as she pushed herself up on her tiptoes, noses brushing, before her lips found his, the salty taste of her inviting him to move, to kiss her again, to kiss her properly, but he daren’t move.  He wasn’t falling for that again.  ‘Y/N, sweetheart…’

‘Make me forget.’  The words hung in the air between them, intoxicating, dangerous, but oh so deliciously tempting.  And then she leaned into him, and he gave in to her request.  

Small hands smoothed over the planes of his chest as he kissed her, fisting his shirt to drag him impossibly closer, before drifting up to lock at the back of his neck.  The way she kissed hadn’t changed, still just as desperate, as hungry for him, and he revelled in it, backing her up until he could lift her onto a table, easing the ache in his back as her legs snaked around him.  It was urgent and messy, and he was so drunk on her, on the sweetness of nostalgia and the bitter shreds of what was left of who they both had been, that he was barely aware of clothing being stripped away, of her breathy whimpers and biting nails, until he was sinking into her, melding them together as one.  She gasped, eyes widening before falling closed, and the world, the crazy, fucked up world he lived in, righted on its axis.

God, he could’ve stayed like that forever.  Buried in her.  Warm, so warm, like coming home, stepping inside out of the cold and feeling the numbness fade from his extremities.  And so perfect that it felt as if he was made to be there.  But then her needy whine snapped him back to reality and he began to move, and he hadn’t remembered just how perfect it could be, when they were moving together, in sync, all give, all take, all the damn time, as she clutched at his shoulders and he mouthed at her throat.  And she must have been right there with him, must’ve been, because at the same moment that something inside him tightened and snapped, her body convulsed and she was tumbling over the edge, carrying him with her, the both of them falling through the darkness into oblivion.

Afterwards, he staggered backwards, collapsing onto the floor as his high ebbed away.  His outstretched arm found his shirt, and he balled it up, shoving it beneath his head to cushion it as he watched her watching him, mixed emotions making her expression impossible to read.  ‘Is this where you pull the Cinderella act then, doll?  Run out and leave me?’

She thought about it.  He could tell that much.  Her muscles tensed and her gaze flicked towards the door, and he knew she was considering gathering her clothes and her dignity and striding out without another word, but something stopped her.  Instead, she slipped to the floor beside him, curling her warm body around his, head resting on his chest as she tapped out the steady thrum of his heartbeat against his skin with her fingertips.  ‘I don’t want to leave.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I don’t know anymore.’


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this is the last part! This story has been so much fun! I’ve loved writing Negan on the back foot having his ass handed to him for a change and exploring the fallout after his antics in Maybe Next Time. Thank you to everybody that’s been reading. I really hope you enjoy the ending!

_Y/N’s POV_

Your hands shook as you unlocked the door to your bedroom, pushing it open and stepping aside to let Negan pass.  Now fully clothed, it still sent a shiver of pleasure through you as his arm brushed yours, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering their wings at the sense memory of his touch and what it had done to you less than an hour ago.  It was stupid, you knew, bringing him back here.  You should have pulled on your clothes and walked away as soon as the act was finished, but the affection in his eyes wouldn’t let you.  As if, by letting him in, you’d opened up an old wound, and you had to find a way to ensure it healed properly this time, instead of leaving behind a ragged scar.  And so, unable to stay there on the canteen floor where anybody might walk in and discover you, you’d beckoned for him to follow you.

And now, here you were.

It had never felt small with you as the only occupant, but with Negan dominating the space, it suddenly felt cramped.  He was so tall, so broad-shouldered, so real and solid and there.  As he sank down onto your bed, groaning a little at the comfort that he’d grown so unaccustomed to, you found that you were looking around for somewhere to put yourself, feeling out of place all of a sudden, unsure of yourself, until he patted the covers beside him.

‘You not gonna join me, doll?  Only seems fair.  It is your bed after all.’

It was tempting.  So damn tempting.  You could still taste him on your tongue, feel the delicious ache deep within you from the space he’d carved out for himself, and it would be so easy to do as he said, curl up at his side and let him hold you, maybe lose yourself in him all over again.  Except that it was a fine line to walk, both because of your history and because of who you were and the responsibilities that rested on your shoulders, so, instead, you hoisted yourself up onto the window sill, feet resting on the now defunct radiator beneath.

‘Suit yourself,’ he huffed, rolling on to his side to fix you with a questioning look.  ‘Guess you wanna talk about this then, huh, sweetheart?’

‘I don’t know.  I think I need to figure out how I feel about it before I can talk about it,’ you admitted.  ‘This isn’t… It’s not why I was looking for you tonight.’

‘Didn’t think for a second it was.  These things, when they’re right, they have a way of becoming inevitable though, don’t you think?’

‘I think I had a momentary slip after spending too long having to maintain control, of myself, of everything.  I’m not sure that makes this right.’

‘Doesn’t make it wrong either,’ he observed.

You sighed.  Was he right?  Was it inevitable?  Maybe… After all, you’d found him again, even after the world as you knew it had fallen apart.  Was there such a thing as destiny?  Surely not.  ‘What do you want from me, Negan?’

‘A second chance.’ His answer was swift, tripping from his tongue without hesitation, his gaze sincere as he watched for your reaction.  ‘You mind if I speak freely here, doll?  Since it’s just you and me here ‘n’ all.’  He waited for your nod before he went on.  ‘See, I think I know you pretty well, Y/N, the girl you were and the woman you’ve become.  I see this mask you put on for the people around you and I hear the speeches, the performance that you’ve honed to perfection.  And you know what I’ve realised?’

‘That I’m kind of a bitch?’  You were aiming for humour, but it fell short, raising only the smallest of smiles.

‘That you’re scared.  You’re fucking terrified of what might happen if you let somebody, anybody, in.  Because what if they turn on you, what if they come after what you’ve got, or what if they do the absolute worst thing they could do and hurt you like I did?  Am I right?’

Your hackles rose.  ‘You’re seriously psychoanalysing me right now?’

‘Not trying to cause offence, doll.  Just trying to be honest, move past all of the bullshit.’

You shook your head, turning to stare out at the darkness beyond the window, taking a deep breath as you fought against your rising temper.  It wasn’t that you didn’t want to scream at him, shout him down, put him in his place, but the knowledge of the bloody consequences of your anger were still too raw, too fresh, after the day’s events.  You had to learn to control it and it seemed as good a time as any to start.  ‘You wanna talk about bullshit, Negan?  You wanna talk about fear?  What about being so scared of real life, of sickness and death, and of losing someone, that you push them away, that you cheat and lie and do everything you can to put that person - the one who needs you, the one who loves you - to the back of your mind?  Huh?  You have no right to judge me after what you did.’

He let out a long whistle, tipping his head back against the wall, the smirk on his face nothing but a mask, just like the one he accused you of wearing.  But it slipped almost instantly as regret flooded his features.  ‘You’re right.’

‘I am?’

‘Course you are, sweetheart.  I know what I did.  Not a day goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.’

‘Save me,’ you snarled.  ‘I might be a monster, Negan, and I might kill people, but I’ve never broken anybody, not like you did to me.’

‘Look, tell me how to show you that I’m sorry, Y/N, and I’ll do it, okay?  Give me a chance to make it right.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know!’  It was his turn to seethe now, gritting his teeth in frustration as he swung his legs off of the bed, setting his feet on the floor so he could lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers.  ‘I don’t know.  I wish I did.  But you know what I do know?  I know you took everything from me, killed my men, locked me in a cell and treated me like a damn animal, and I know that the second you came to me, all vulnerable and crying and looking like your whole world had collapsed around you, all I wanted to do was hold you.  So, don’t tell me that whatever that was back there meant nothing, okay?  You can throw up your barriers, and you can lie to everybody else around here, but I need the truth.’

‘I-I don’t know what it was.’

‘It was fucking miraculous is what it was,’ he bit out.  ‘I feel like I finally found my way back home, back to where I belong, and now you’re sitting over there, out of reach, looking at me like you hate me, and I’m telling you, doll, that’s by far the worst thing you’ve done to me since you came barrelling back into my life.’

‘I don’t hate you.’  You spoke without thinking, but you realised in that moment that it was true.  You had for a time, a long long time, but the however-many months since you’d found him again had changed that.  In his absence, you’d built him up as a monster in your head, evil and vindictive, but in reality he was just a man: complicated and a little fucked up.  You couldn’t hate him for that.  ‘I just don’t trust you.’

‘Then why did you come to me?  You could’ve gone to anyone.  You could’ve knocked on Marco’s door.  I’m sure as hell he wouldn’t have minded.  But you sought me out, sent away my guard.  Tell me why.’

‘Because…’  You tailed off, the war in your brain beginning to hurt as your heart battled with your logic.  ‘Because I can talk to you.  Because I knew you before and it didn’t matter if I sounded weak because, after it all, you just get locked back in your cell and none of it ever happened.  And because I wanted to blame you, for making me this way and for ruining everything.  I wanted you to feel this guilt that I’m feeling.  I just… I couldn’t take it alone!’

‘And that’s the real reason?’  He sighed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, as if he couldn’t quite believe you, or didn’t want to.  ‘That’s what it all boils down to?  Because you’re in charge of me?  Because you could lock me away once you were done pouring your heart out and know that none of your little minions would think any less of you?  Well, shit, doll, that hurts.’

‘Not the only reason,’ you began to argue but he cut you off.

‘Oh, no, not the only reason, you’re right.  No, it was also ‘cause you fucked up, big time, and you couldn’t live with that, so you wanted to stick some of that burden on my shoulders to make yourself feel better.  That’s basically what you just said, right?  Jesus, woman, I knew there was something twisted inside that pretty head of yours but I didn’t realise just how fucking beyond redemption you really are.’

You physically recoiled.  Your eyes narrowed and your pulse began to thunder in your ears as your muscles tensed, ready for action, to launch yourself across the room and beat the man who dared to disrespect you bloody, but your nails were embedded in the wood of the sill you sat upon, and the urge left you as soon as it had reared its head.  Anger gave way to a stomach-churning pain as you forced yourself to listen, to really hear what he was saying, letting the vicious declaration reverberate inside your head as you considered it.  Beyond redemption?  Was that really true?  

You supposed it might be.  You’d always felt like you were aiming for something, striving for something; that, at some point, you’d achieve your goal and it would be enough.  You’d be able to stop then, to lay down your arms and take a step back and feel at peace.  But, as power and the quest for survival had eaten away at your soul, you’d lost sight of just what that endgame was.  The salvation of your people, yes, that was obvious.  But at what cost?  Was it possible - and you were sure it was, given time to crunch the numbers - that you’d actually killed more people than you’d saved?  The thought caused your brain to shut down, unable to deal with that reality, that maybe your way wasn’t the best way and you’d been wrong all along, and you swallowed hard against the tidal wave of emotion that threatened to pull you under.

‘I’m sorry.’  When Negan spoke again, his voice was quiet, all aggression gone from his tone, as he fixed his gaze on his fingertips.  ‘Shit, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have said all that, I just…’  He paused to exhale loudly, his shoulders slumping even further as the oxygen left his lungs.  ‘I wanted what happened tonight to be real.  I wanted it so fucking bad that I actually let myself believe it, especially when you stuck around.  It meant something to me and I realised just what I’ve been missing out on all this time.  You’re the one that got away, Y/N.’  

‘Negan-’

‘No, let me- Let me say this, please, and then I’ll go if you want me too.  I’ll crawl back to my cell and I’ll fucking stay there until you think I’ve been punished enough.’  He took your silence as permission to continue.  ‘What I did to you was shitty.  I know that.  I’ve had more than enough time to think about just how shitty it was, trust me.’

‘You told me you didn’t think about it.  You said you couldn’t let yourself.’

‘And I tried not to.  I really did.  I fought against it with everything I had, and it worked for a while.  Right up until I lost Lucille, it worked.  And after that, the world around me was going to hell, and she was gone, and I spent so many nights alone in the dark, and I used to lie awake and wonder where the hell you were, whether you were still alive, what you were doing.  Gotta tell you, I didn’t picture this, but then I always knew you were a damn spitfire.’  Finally, his gaze drifted up to meet yours, dark and full of remorse, bringing a lump to your throat that made your breath hitch.  ‘I don’t think you’re beyond redemption.  I shouldn’t have said that.  Hell, if you are, then I must be too, and I’d like to think that there’s still some kind of hope for the both of us.  And if I thought you were doing this because you genuinely believed it was the right thing, then I wouldn’t be judging you, sweetheart, not at all.’

‘It is the right thing,’ you insisted.

‘Maybe.  But that isn’t why you’re making these decisions, doll, and you know it.  This isn’t logic driving this whole thing, it’s anger.  You’re so angry that I can feel it coming off of you.  You’re seething deep down in there somewhere, and you’ve got all of this aggression, all of this violent energy and bitterness that you need to let out, and you don’t know how.  So, you kill or you give the order to kill, and you insist on having ultimate control of every little detail because it’s the only thing that can help you sleep at night.  Or it was.  Until it all went wrong.’ He spread his hands wide, as if appealing to you to see the truth behind his words.  ‘Fear and anger, sweetheart, that’s what drives you.  And it just… it breaks my heart.’

You didn’t know how he did it, how he’d always done it.  Negan had this uncanny ability to see right through you, as if he’d somehow peeled back all the layers that you’d built up to protect yourself and was staring right into your core.  You remembered feeling that way on the first night you’d met, when his chocolate gaze had penetrated your little black dress, seen past your tear-streaked face and the attitude you ramped up to compensate for the show of emotion, the cloud of smoke that curled around you and the vodka glaze to your eyes.  You’d been a lonely, lost little girl and still he’d seemed to think you were worth knowing, worth waiting for.  He’d seen the potential inside of you, to be stronger than you were, to be smarter than you were.  He’d seen the passion waiting to be unlocked and he’d taken great pleasure in finding the key that would allow him to delve even deeper.  If only it hadn’t gone so wrong.

The longer you thought, avoiding responding in case you should say something that might confirm what he’d said to be true, or else proved it to be the total opposite and encouraged him to give up on you altogether, the heavier the tension in the room seemed to become.  The eyes that still watched you had become wary, as if waiting for you to kick off at any moment, waiting for that temper to come into play, but you found, to your surprise, that you didn’t want to fight him.  You couldn’t.  After everything that had happened, you just didn’t have any fight left in you.

‘I’m tired,’ you said finally, and he nodded in understanding.  

‘Want me to leave?’

‘No.’  You slid from your spot on the sill, leaning back against it as you pushed your hands through your hair.  ‘No, I don’t mean… I mean, I’m tired of all of this.  I’m tired of calling the shots and of issuing orders.  I’m tired of everybody looking to me for answers when I don’t know any better than them, not really.  I’m tired of pretending like I know what I’m doing, y’know?  Because I don’t.  I don’t have a damn clue.  I just thought that if I kept going, if I kept moving, kept waking up to face each day, it’d all be okay.’

‘Hey, we’ve all felt like that.  It’s not easy living in this world, especially not when people are looking to you to lead them.  Trust me, I know.’  He cleared his throat, inching forward so that he was only perched on the mattress, his folded knees almost touching yours where you stood.  ‘But you know what makes it a damn sight harder?  Trying to do it all on your own.  That way lies insanity, sweetheart.  You’ve gotta let someone in.  You’ve got to let yourself trust someone.’

‘Who?  You?’

‘Doesn’t have to be.’ Negan shrugged.  ‘Could be Marco.  Could be any one of the underlings you have at your beck and call around here.  Just pick someone, anyone.’

‘I-I can’t.  After what I’ve done, how I’ve treated these people, there’s not a single one of them I can trust to have my back.’

‘You’re serious?  You’ve done all kinds of shit to me, and I’d still kill for you.  Hell, I’d die for you if that’s what I had to do.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Why?’

‘Because-’

‘Because I love you.’  The words hit their mark, right in the centre of your heart, and you dropped into a crouch, covering your ears with your hands as if you could block them out, but he was insistent.  ‘That’s the truth of it, doll.  I loved you back then when you were all messy and beautiful and innocent, and that’s why I had to let you go.  And I love you now, hard and cold and brutal and just a little bit fucking lost.  I love everything about you, and I can’t even hate you when you kill my people and have me scrubbing the damn floors on my knees every day.  And that is why you can trust me, Y/N, ‘cause you have the upper hand here, you do.  I’d do anything for you.  You’ve just gotta give me the chance.’

‘And what happens then?’ you whispered, not daring to raise your voice in case you should lose control and scream,  _Yes, yes, please!  Help me!  Love me!_  ‘What happens if I say yes?  You come in here and take control?’

‘Fuck no.’  With a small groan he dropped to his knees, crawling towards you so that he could take your hands in his, forcing your head up to meet his gaze so you could see the sincerity behind it.  ‘I don’t want the responsibility of running a place like this.  The Sanctuary was just about all that I could handle and, as you so kindly pointed out, I wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job of that either.  I don’t want to take this from you, sweetheart, I want to support you.  I want to help you make the decisions you don’t wanna make.  And maybe, just maybe, I can help you stop things like what happened today from happening again.  Another set of eyes, that’s all I’m offering.  I just wanna take some of that pressure away from you, maybe see you smile again.’

Despite yourself, you could feel the corners of your lips quirking up as you considered it, ruling with Negan at your side, and he slipped a finger under your chin, huffing out a soft laugh.

‘See, there it is.’  Sensing your hesitation, he pressed on.  ‘Look, you were right.  Maybe I am a soft touch, and maybe you’re just a little bit too fucking hard some of the time.  But maybe, - and I’m not promising anything because I know how goddamn stubborn you are, and I’m not much better - maybe, together we can find some kind of happy medium, huh?  Just kill the ones that need killing.  And maybe we can both sleep a little easier.’

‘Negan, you hurt me.’

‘I know.’

‘You hurt me so bad.’

‘I know.  And I promise you that won’t ever happen again.  I swear to you, Y/N, I’m all in if you’ll let me.  C’mon, doll, what do you say?’

 

*****

 

_Negan’s POV_

Negan woke on a yawn, blinking dazedly as he opened his eyes to the bright sunshine streaming in through the window.  The mattress beneath him was soft and warm, and the limbs tangled with his were warmer still.  Still sleeping, Y/N was the most beautiful sight he thought he’d ever seen.  Hair tangled and mussed against her pillow, lips pursed in a slight pout and long lashes fluttering against her cheeks, he couldn’t stop himself from waking her with a kiss, brushing his mouth over hers and smiling when she shifted closer, coming to with a soft moan.  

‘Morning, sweetheart.’

‘Morning.’  It was her turn to yawn now, and then she buried her face in his shoulder, still tired after a long, emotional night.  He’d been worried that she’d wake and regret her decision, to let him in, to trust him, to build this thing together, but there wasn’t an ounce of tension in her body that he could feel, and he could feel every delicious inch as she pressed herself against him.  The massacre with the kids had been the turning point.  As horrific and unnecessary as it might’ve been, their blood on her hands had finally penetrated that steel cage around her heart, and Negan had been right: there had still been a place for him inside.  

‘What time is it?’ she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.  ‘Did we miss breakfast?’

‘Pretty sure we did.  Sun’s up.  Reckon it’s gotta be almost midday.’

‘Shit, really?’  That had her springing upright, glaring at the sky outside her window as if it had wronged her and drawing a deep rumble of laughter from Negan’s chest.  ‘Dammit, I needed to be downstairs, like, four hours ago.’

‘Relax.’

‘No, Negan, I can’t.  You don’t know, okay?  There’s so much I have to do, things I need to take care of, and-’

He silenced her with a kiss, tugging her back down in one sharp motion so he could reach her lips and sinking into her, feeling her resistance melt away almost immediately.  He kissed her long and slow, until he was sure that she might stay quiet for long enough to listen to him, and only then did he break away, pulling back so he could meet her gaze.  ‘You gotta chill out, sweetheart.  I know there’s shit to do, but there’s plenty of time for that, especially now you’ve got me to help you out, alright?  We’ll get to it eventually and we’ll do it together.’

‘But-’

‘You telling me you really wanna get up right now?’  He leant in, pressing soft kisses down the column of her throat.  ‘You telling me that you’ve been leading this place single-handed for the last God-knows how long, and you haven’t even earned yourself one single lie-in?  Now, that can’t be right, can it?’

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she exhaled heavily, a deep sigh that seemed to expel all that was left of her doubts.  ‘You’re gonna be a bad influence on me.  I can already tell.’

‘That’s right, doll, and you’re gonna love every damn second.’ 


End file.
